A/N: Hello everyone,

I recently rewatched the second Fantastic Beasts movie and wanted to write something with Grindelwald in it. I believe him to be a good opposing force, but a bit more open to change then Voldemort.

I hope you like this chapter, I wrote it so it can be both a singular chapter story with a somewhat open-end or the first chapter to a larger story.

I am not sure how much I will write for this story and how much it is going to influence my other one, but for now, it is a little experiment.

Chapter One

History repeats itself

Dumbledore was a very old man. Not only by age, which usually hadn't had a great influence on the older wizard, but also by experience and now by the recent events.

The last week had been rather eventful, to say the least.

Good things had happened, even great things, things people would describe in legends a hundred years from now.

Voldemort was dead, the war was over and the world turned into a brighter place.

The older of the two Potter offsprings was by now dubbed the boy-who-lived by any news publication source in the entirety of Europe.

He survived the killing curse and had somehow slain the Dark Lord. These were really strange times.

As he looked out of the window in his office, down onto the black lake and the ancient forest that surrounded the school and its people, protected it from prying eyes of Muggles and other non magical beings as well as helped keep the students save with the inhabitants of the woods, who all seemingly formed a relationship with the castles gamekeeper, not allowing anything to pass through the deep woods.

The forbidden forest hosted a great verity of magical creatures, namely centaurs and gigantic spiders, which were some of the tamer individual threats that lingered in the darkness of the ancient woods.

The forest allowed the school to be and while the ancient magic that rested in the roots of the forbidden forest saved the school many a time in its long history, the trees lingered and waited for something, he'd rather not find out what.

Today, the forest had held its breath. Today, the birds in the sky remained silent. Today, yes today, was the day Dumbledore had feared without ever expecting it to happen.

Today was the reason the headmaster felt so old, so ancient and senile. There was no sparkle in those blue eyes. His half-moon spectacles rested on his crooked nose, his hand stocked his white beard.

Today was the day on which news had reached him that none other then Gellert Grindelwald escaped the German and Austrian wizarding authorities and fled from the former headquarters of the Alliance and now magical prison of Nurmengard Castle. Not only that, but he supposedly was already gone for a few days, before the guard even realised that.

The frown on the headmasters face deepened as he remembered the headlines and articles of the wizarding newspapers all across Europe.

History repeats itself

A few hundred miles south to the castle, in Surrey near London, a group of three people made their way through the ever-repeating city spaces that represented the blandness Privet drive and the surrounding suburbs.

All three people, a younger French woman, a man with wild dark hair and many scars and an old man with brilliant white-blond hair and a large cane that supported his uneasy walk, were wearing heavy leather coats that shielded them from the strong pouring rain.

The group stopped in front of an, especially inconspicuous house. The Grass was perfectly cut and the flowers were all in top condition.

The fourth house of the street didn't seem any more unique than the others and yet the three people were drawn to it like flies.

For the second time in the same week, a powerful wizard stepped through heavily warded and secured defences and for the second time in the same week, the wards simply collapsed.

A smirk appeared on the features of the old man, the same old man who caused the blood wards of the mighty Albus Dumbledore to collapse. The same wards that were supposed to keep people like him out and away from his precious golden boy.

The bright flash of the wards disintegrating, a phenomenon only visible to those who are in some shape or form magically blooded, gave the two others the go-ahead for them to approach the home of the family resting within the formerly secure house. For any lesser man, these wards would have been fatal.

Grindelwald himself knew of course that the wards hadn't fully developed yet, which had been the only reason for them being able to walk onto this property in the first place. The old wizard could feel his magic expanding rapidly, as he took in all of the remaining and escaping power of the collapsed wards.

His core had shimmered with tainted magic as he had escaped his former fortress. Now, after bathing in the magic of his old friend and rival, his core shone bright with the light of pure and untainted magic, a feeling of power and unhindered might spread in his chest, a welcoming warmth overtook the body of the infamous wizard his eyes shone bright with power.

He could feel his body shifting.

The magic helped him regenerate his wounds and injuries. He felt younger then he had felt in a long time. His hand reached out and caressed his now smoothed skin, his soft hair which had gained its old volume. His spine allowed him now to stand tall, his chest out, straight like a soldier. He felt like any powerful wizard felt at the tender age of ninety-eight.

The cane that he had used to walk before was now useless, as he was able to perfectly move, smoothly and elegantly, as if he hadn't spent the last few decades in prison.

He drew a deep breath and watched the soundings in a completely new light. The world had colour again, the wind was now a pleasant companion and the rain washed him clean of his sins of the past. He felt free of all despair.

A shiver ran down his spine as he took in the disgusting normality of the people that lived here. The Muggles and Muggelborns would soon be in their rightful place at the bottom of his world, he was going to make sure of that.

But for that, he was going to need a few things. First of all, he was going to capture the 'boy-who-lived' or 'chosen one' as the newspapers had dubbed the four-year-old Harry James Potter.

Such a disgustingly common name.

Harry. Harry Potter. Harry James Potter

The Potters, unpleasant memories came at the thought of the family of the warriors. Charlus Potter, uncle of James, who in turn fathered Harry. He had fought in the war against him, he had chosen the fool Dumbledore over the way of the truth.

None the less, he was going to make sure that the heir of the Potters, some of his greatest enemies, was taken care of. After all, it wouldn't do any good to have another Charlus or Fleamont Potter striding around the place.

Today he would either kill or take the heir of Potter to raise him into a weapon that would be sure to eradicate any doubt of him being the superior wizard over Albus Dumbledore or that young and foolish Tom Riddle.

'Tomorrow', Grindelwald thought, 'tomorrow I will search the daughter of the Potters and she will share the fate of her brother.'

The Potters had a younger daughter, a one-year-old girl by the name of Iris Lily Potter.

It had been in the Daily Prophet a good year ago. The Potters had produced another offspring. He hadn't read the article, he wasn't interested in such things and the name had been the only detail that pulled his attention and he had kept in the back of his mind.

While she wouldn't essentially be able to choose who she sided with, the thought of being with her brother surely would be enough to come with him. She would be taken regardless, as she probably hadn't yet acquired the ability to speak, or even think for herself. Should the brother chose to stand against him, or refuse to come with him, he would simply kill him and then his little sister.

He had no time to sweet mouth a child now. Should the kid join him, he would make him into a worthy apprentice, a scholar, a politician and a worrier. His sister would be just as talented and similarly schooled, may be weaker in duels but more charismatic? Or she would be a stronger dueller then her brother, while he excelled in politics or other subjects.

Together they, the siblings and he as well as the rest of Grindelwald's men and women, would ravage the continent and rule like they were supposed to. It was, after all, their birthright.

Grindelwald had by now completely tuned out the rain, entirely unfazed, he now strode towards the entrance of the Muggle home. His companions had scouted the surroundings of the house while he had changed and were now standing directly behind him.

The two were his most faithful new followers. On one hand, there was Igor Karkaroff, headmaster of Durmstrang, master duellist and one of the most ruthless people in the entirety of wizarding Europe. To top that, Igor also had been one of the former Dark Lords followers and even a somewhat high ranked one.

Voldemort had tried to set foot in northern Europe through Durmstrang, which hadn't been entirely successful. As soon as Grindelwald had escaped Nurmengard and it had become public knowledge, Karkaroff had searched him and shortly afterwards pledged his allegiance to the German wizard.

In his short time being a free man again, Grindelwald believed him to be his most useful follower, as he was able to provide him with a large number of insights and information about many a thing.

But without the shadow of a doubt, the person to the right of him was going to be his most useful ally in a short time.

Madame Apolline Delacour, a French part veela and witch, as well as wife to one of the most influential French wizards of the last few decades.

She had mothered a young daughter, who would turn out to be rather useful to his cause should the time arise. A young veela would be a phenomenal weapon against anyone, for many a reason.

Besides their natural beauty and magical affinity, the ability to transform into an avian demon-like beast was a rather useful skill. That and the fact she was the daughter to the French minister of magic could help to build a bond with allies or she would help to keep one of his more important followers loyal to him, by offering her as a gift through a forced marriage contract. The possibilities were near endless. But that wouldn't be a concern for now.

He knocked heavily on the strong wooden door. Of course, he could just open the door with magic, while he had no wand he was able to perform multiple spells wandlessly, but he wanted to see if he was able to talk to them first.

It would be, after all, a nice little training for his abilities in persuading them into giving up the Potter heir in their own free will or a way to get easily to information about the young boy.

A rumbling could be heard behind the door. It was late evening, around eight or nine pm, it was heavily raining and not a singular sole would be going outside out of their own free will.

So, understandably, the 'Dursleys', as it read on the lettering of the mailbox, would be suspicious of whom would knock on their very door at this hour in the evening.

A horse-faced woman carefully opened the door, if only a bit, and peered out onto the three people standing on her porch. She had been assured that no witches or wizards would be able to enter her property or harass her, after all, that was what the letter said Petunia Dursley had received together with a young Harry Potter.

"Who are you?!" she asked, with the most annoying tone of voice the old wizard had ever heard. "What do you want here?", she shot the other two people a calculating look before focusing on the one in the middle again.

It looked like she was measuring them up, trying to judge whether or not they would be a threat to her or her family.

"My name is unimportant while my appearance here is not." Grindelwald spoke loudly. A booming voice that demanded respect and obedience.

The muggle woman was now solely focused on him, waiting for him to continue his explanation. "You could say it would be rather important for you and your family Mrs Dursley, -" the wizard continued "We would want to speak to all of them please, I understand you are living here with your husband and a child that has been entrusted to you by your close relatives!" If it was supposed to sound like a question it didn't. It sounded like an explanation of the simplest of subjects.

The muggle woman only nodded, still somewhat intimidated by the appearance of the three strangers. She seemingly was about to refuse to let them enter when the woman behind the blond man spoke up.

"Madame Dursley? We are 'ere because of a misunderstanding zat 'ad been influencing ze progress of ze transfer of ze, how do you say, richesse de la famille?… ah, oui family wealth. Ze Potters' 'ad quite a few investments zat 'ad turned into a little fortune. You, as closest remaining family, would be les destinataires, ze recipients of ze Potter money." With that, she gave the horse-faced woman a bright, yet noticeably forced smile, which the woman in question didn't seem to notice, and waited for the Muggle to answer.

The mention of money had piqued the woman's interest, a greedy glow spread across the eyes of the woman, something that disgusted the three wizards greatly.

None of them had any love left for those Muggles that showed their simpler sides, their love of useless violence and animal-like behaviour. To act as primal beings on simpler urges. Their self-destructive nature. Their warmongering and unprecedented attacks against their own. Their lack of vision for the greater good.

This was Grindelwald's true enemy. Back during the thirties and forties he had 'supported' the rally of Adolf Hitler and his little German empire. He had sent in some of his best men to assist the Germans in their war against Great Britain and France. But in the end, it was to no avail. He lost the war and so did the Germans.

And while he had admired the practices and truly inhumane ways of torturing and killing the people the German government had deemed to be the enemy, his time in Nurmengard had shown him that they had all been inefficient and wrong. Had they won on either end of the battlefield, had either of the sides lost this truly long-lasting chess match of magical and muggle warfare combined, a war of ideology and principles, then the world would be truly different by now.

"Who is there Petunia darling?" the three wizards could hear from behind the door. Then in a nearly undetectable whisper, still clearly audible to the three standing out in front of the door "It's not one of those freaks, is it?".

The woman, Petunia Dursley, as Grindelwald now knew, turned back into the house and answered with a loud tone, "It's seemingly some financial advisor's, Vernon honey, that came to talk to us about the money we get from the Potter inheritance." completely disregarding the whispered question of her Husband.

"Potter money? -" the voice from behind the door spoke up again "What kind of money would they have? Weren't they, you know…?" he didn't audibly finish the question, which led the wizards to believe that he had been making some form of hand gestures. Not that they cared what these Muggles thought of the Potters.

"Neither did I know of any money they supposedly possessed, but I guess that's why these people are here." Petunia mused while pointing with her thumb over her shoulder.

"I suppose we could hear them out. But let me put the freak back into the cupboard before you let them in." the man behind the door said, the second part only barely audible from outside of the door.

"We hav vaited long enough, let us be done vith it!" Karkaroff whispered next to him, loud enough for only the old man to hear. "No, not yet Igor, soon. I have a strong feeling that if we cast a spell here, Dumbledore would be here in no time." Grindelwald quietly explained. "We will have to get the boy before we kill them. Or we will have to burn down their house with Fiendfyre if he decides against joining our noble cause."

"I still do not understand vhy he is so important to you, my Lord!" Karkaroff whispered again.

"It is neither your place nor in your interest to question me, Igor. What I do has reasons far beyond your simple-minded understanding. You should be happy that you will be apart of our new world. I will take care of the road to our dreams and you will assist me with it." Grindelwald answered menacingly, still not loud enough to disturb the talking Muggles, but enough to catch the attention of the French witch, who now looked disapprovingly over towards the Bulgarian headmaster.

"Your bickering will disturb ze mission, Karkaroff." she hissed at him, before turning back to the door, where the Muggles had finished their discussion and were now ready to let them in.

"Do you want anything? Tea? A glass of water or wine?" the pale woman asked. Grindelwald eyed her with a calculating gaze, hiding it behind an artificial friendly smile.

She was rather tall and thin. She had blond hair and a very long face, which was probably her most noticeable feature. Her horse-like-teeth and a rather long neck made her out to look like some form of half-breed. She had pale eyes, some that reflected a certain coldness, but they were filled with joy at the moment.

Probably because she thought she was going to be getting an undisclosed amount of money in the foreseeable future.

Her appearance disgusted the old wizard as did her thoughts. She was about as bland and as mutch muggle as one could be. But her husband was a completely different case. If the woman was insufferable, the man was that but tenfold.

Vernon Dursley was a big, beefy man with a large purple face. He had thick, dark hair, a bushy black moustache, with hardly any neck and mean little eyes.

The only thing these two had in common was their complete blandness and unbelievably muggelish behaviour.

"No thank you, we will want to make this short and sweet," Grindelwald muttered. "Where is the boy? He will need to be present for this!" his cold blue eyes focused on the large muggle who was standing by the stairs. "Oh, you mean Dudley? He is in the living room, he watches something on the TV." Vernon answered, he clearly tried to avoid the piercing blue eyes of the blond man.

"I vink you know who ve are talking about!" Karkaroff said, his voice threateningly low and with a deep growl. The Muggles were quickly intimidated by the scarred man but the large Muggle still seemingly had some fight in him, as he answered, his voice only barely shaking.

"The boy just went to bed. I think we are better choices to talk to, we are his guardians after all." he quivered, spitting the words boy and guardian out like they were poisons.

"Well, If he just went to bed, I am sure he will be still awake. If not wake him, this is important. More so then you may think." Grindelwald snapped. His voice again, demanding obedience and respect.

"Fine, fine... Vernon get the boy, I will take our guests to the living room." Petunia said a strong hint of fear and resentment was present in her voice. There was something about the three strangers that greatly unsettled her.

It was unusual for people to come into their house and demand things. Would it have been anyone else, Vernon would have probably folded them by now and thrown them onto the side-walk, she was sure of it.

But these people were unique. There was a no noses aura that sounded them.

A determined will was strongly uniting them for they had a common goal.

She once had read that in a book somewhere.

They had taken a seat in the lounge, a boy was sitting there, alone, he was not much more than one year old. He had blond hair, something he undoubtedly got from the horse-faced woman, the old wizard observed.

"Mum!" the child yelped, as he spotted the strange people entering the room. The Dursley woman rushed over to her child and quickly snatched him up into a hug, whispering soothing words into his ears.

The display of motherly affection left all three entirely untouched. And while Madame Delacour had a child herself, she doubted that anyone could feel as much of an attachment to their son or daughter as she did with hers. The fact that the boy was a Muggle didn't help his case at all.

Just then there was some commotion by the stairs and the two occupants entered the room.

This was the first time that anyone of them had laid eyes upon the 'boy-who-lived'. Grindelwald felt slightly underwhelmed, as he mustered the boy from head to toe.

He had raven black hair that undoubtedly came from his father. Grindelwald remembered facing down Fleamont and Charlus Potter, who both had similarly shocking hairstyles.

He had bright green eyes, a rather unique colour, something that reminded him of an emerald. But most of all, he was scrawny and had a couple of fresh wounds on his hands.

This was a most interesting development, as either A, James and Lily Potter had been abusive towards him before they died and gave him those still relatively new injuries, rather unlikely, or B, he was being abused and either under or not at all fed by his aunt and uncle here.

Based on his relatively new injuries, somewhere burns or cuts, there was also an imprint of the large Muggles hand on his face and throat, Gellert suspected that his second thesis was true.

He felt a strong similarity between Harry James Potter and Credence Barebone or Aurelius Dumbledore.

Forced to abandon the life with a good family, Aurelius had to be adopted by a new family, the Barebones, a wizard hating family that lived in America a few decades back. There he had been called Credence Barebone, forced to live as a Muggle, a no-maj, forced to live without magic, without love. There had never been a certainty in his life.

Grindelwald had used that to his advantage. Just like he was going to be using this as an advantage with Harry Potter.

He would make sure the boy trusted him, he would help him achieve what he wanted and in turn, the boy was going to help him.

He would give him a family if that was what he needed. A shudder came with the thought, the years and decades in Nurmengard had made him soft. He was sure the Delacour's would take him in and treat him as one of their own if need be.

Plans grew in the older wizards head. A four-year-old boy wouldn't be as impressionable as a one-year-old would have been, but he had managed to turn a twenty-five-year-old Credence into his arms, so he was feeling rather confident.

"Well, now that everyone is here, I would like to take young Mr Potter aside and talk to him for a bit. Madam Delacour will begin to give you a simple introduction to the subject matter and we will begin as soon as I have returned." Grindelwald intoned the last bit while looking straight at Karkaroff.

The Bulgarian slightly nodded but generally looked entirely impassive while standing in the corner of the room, back to the wall as if ready for an attack every second. The old wizard turned to the boy and gave him an artificial smile while taking a step forward towards him.

The large Muggle now also took a step forward and gave the German wizard a menacing glare. "You will not talk to my nephew alone, sir, I hope you understand." the large Dursley cracked his fingers and took another step forward.

"Are you threatening him?" the dark voice of Karkaroff boomed across the room. Gellert only held his hand up in a soothing manner. "Now, now… Nobody was threatening anyone here. I'm sure you agree, Mr Dursley." his voice grew colder and colder while turning towards the large muggle.

"The hell I wasn't!" Vernon screamed, utter fury raided from his voice. Who was this man that dared come into his house and tell him what to do? Money or not, he would not stand being disrespected in his own home. He took another step towards the old man, who in fairness, not even flinched. As a matter of fact, he remained as relaxed as if he had been talking about the weather with him.

"Is that so, Mr Dursley?" the old man said. "Well then, Oh, silly me, we haven't even mentioned our names to you, haven't we? I guess introductions are in order!" he said, not in the slightest moved by the fact that a mountain of a man was standing a few inches away from him.

Vernon seemed to be slightly taken aback by that. Both he and Petunia reluctantly shook their heads and waited to receive the names of the intruders.

"This over there, -" he said pointing towards the tall and thin man with a goatee which ended in a twirl and some cold and unmoving eyes "- Is Igor Karkaroff. He is famous for being the headmaster of a renowned school in northern Europe. He recently found me after I fled from imprisonment in Austria, where I had spent a good part of the past century. He himself managed to… miss out on a shorter sentence for torturing people together with another man who currently resides at my residence." Grindelwald patiently explained, as if he was talking about the simplest thing in the world.

"This beautiful woman is Madam Apolline Delacour, a few years ago she gave birth to the most wonderful young woman I have ever met in my life." he gave a slight nod to the half-veela "A very polite girl, and rather smart too. She is only four-years-old, much like young Harry over here -" He continued while pointing in the general direction of the young boy "- and daughter to one of the most influential people in France. Not to mention of course the fact that he is the French minister of magic." He finished the introduction of Madame Delacour and turned to the older Dursley.

"And I am Gellert." he paused for a second "Gellert Grindelwald. Reason for the first large wizarding war, hell I even supported Germany in their war efforts. For that, being indirectly and directly accountable for the deaths of many hundreds of thousands if not millions of people, I was imprisoned back in 1945." He finished with a wicked smile. "In a few months I will turn one-hundred-years old and If everything goes according to plan, I will live for another hundred years." Grindelwald added, this time he laughed out loud.

There were shell-shocked expressions on the faces of the three other people in the room, save for Dudley of course, who by now was sleeping in the arms of his mother.

"So I ask you again, Dursley, did you just threaten us?" this time, the tone of the wizard was less playful and had returned to the cold one that it had possessed before.

The pale form of the large man standing before him didn't answer. "So I suppose this is a yes?" Grindelwald asked while turning to Karkaroff. "Why don't you show Mr and Mrs Dursley what you did to those Muggles together with Antonin, hm?"

The tall man only nodded, a simple smile appearing on his face as he drew his wand.

But then, for the first time since they had arrived Harry Potter spoke up. He sounded slightly shaky, but none the less determined. "No, please don't hurt them."

This surprised the old wizard greatly. He quickly raised his hand and gave Igor the sign to wait.

"Why would you wish this? Haven't they abused you? Hit you? Made you do things you didn't want to do? Treated you like you weren't human?" he asked. These were largely rhetorical questions, but the inquisitive tone remained.

"They are bad people Harry. Muggles that injure the heir of an ancient and noble house are sentenced with no trail and executed." He intoned the last part.

He gave the boy an intense glare, before softening a little and going down onto a knee so he was on the same level as Harry.

"Harry, these people hate you. They will enjoy seeing you harmed. They will hate you for the rest of your life. Their son will grow up to be a bad if not criminal person and so will his sons and daughters."

Grindelwald sighed slightly. "They are lesser people Harry. They can't love what they don't understand. They can't show kindness and only favour their own." he paused and let his words sink in. Harry only stared back at him, as if trying to understand what the man had just said.

"Remember your parents Harry. Remember your sister. Have they ever laid hands on you only to harm you? To… maim you?" Grindelwald continued, taking the hands of the young man into his own, brushing over the burns, cuts and bruises with his finger, leaving them to disappear and heal quickly.

He looked up and met the gaze of the young man. In times like these he missed Queenie Goldstein, she could have told him what the boy was thinking, what he would need to say or do to give the boy the final push.

Harry only shook his head. A singular tear welled up from his eyes and ran down his cheek. He quietly sniffed, waiting for the man to continue.

"Harry, these people only want you harm. You are protecting what will betray you someday. Do you think that they will let you leave that cupboard of yours after we are gone?" He again intoned the last part of his statement.

"If you were to come with me -" Grindelwald continued, but he was interrupted by the boy. "But you are bad." he said, sounding entirely to unsure for such an absolute statement.

"No Harry," Grindelwald muttered in a soothing voice, trying to calm down the boy. The last thing he needed was some accidental magic happening and him ending up like Riddle.

"I'm no bad person. I did bad things, yes. But I did these things for the greater good." Grindelwald paused again. He now had to do exactly what he said he didn't want to do. He had to seduce the boy to his ideals and this fast.

Every minute they spent here, Dumbledore could decide to drop by and check if Harry was alright. Grindelwald was sure that at this point in time, no one in this room stood even remotely a chance at fighting Dumbledore.

The Delacour matriarch was the least skilled duellist of the three but supposedly had a hand for enchantments and potions. Neither really helpful in a duel. The only thing she would have had going for her was her veela heritage. The transformation into the avian fire demon was the only help she could provide.

Karkaroff was a skilled duller, he personally had instructed Antonin Dolohov and many other skilled Durmstrang students. While he stood a far better chance against Dumbledore then Apolline, he wouldn't stand a chance against the skill of the chief warlock.

Grindelwald knew that he himself wouldn't be able to hold Dumbledore off either. This was largely due to the fact that he had spent the past few decades in prison as so was rather rusty in battle magic or any kind of magic for that matter. But he also had no wand and while he was able to cast one or two spells wandlessly, they were neither combat spells nor effective against one of the most accomplished wizards of all time.

He stopped his musings and turned back to the boy, who was still staring at him. "These things had to be done. For the greater good," he repeated. "I gave up the chance to be seen as a good man by those who were blinded by the lies of the governments. I fought the superstitions of the people that the statute of secrecy was only there for our sake. "They didn't listen. They sooner heeded the words of someone who used to follow me, stood by my side, wanted the same as I did. We swore an oath to never betray each other. We made a blood pact to never move against the other. And yet, he betrayed me. He moved against me. Fought me for my beliefs. Believes we used to share. Believes of a world where wizards could live and love the way they wanted to. Be who they dreamed to be. Wizards and Muggles. Hand in hand, living and ruling the world to our liking. Paradise on earth Harry!" He focused on the boy again. His gaze had slightly shifted as he had ranted on and remembered his dreams for the world.

"Paradise where people like them -" he pointed at the Dursleys "- never would be allowed to continue their ways. Paradise where you can do and be what you want to. Imagine that!" Grindelwald continued.

"Join me Harry." he suddenly intoned after a few seconds. "Join our noble cause, be remembered in history for your already great achievements and for those that will follow them."

He could see the inner conflict the boy was having, so he continued, trying to push and pull the right buttons.
"You could have anything you ever wanted Harry. I would give you everything! I would fulfil your deepest desire! I would give you power if you wanted it, money if you needed it, friends, if you required them and even a family of your own if that would be your deepest wish." Grindelwald paused again.

The conflict seemed to be seething behind his eyes. Green flames, the colour of all the meadows, trees and emeralds around the wide world, played and danced behind the eyes of the young wizard.

"I could raise you, Harry, train you to be the very best you could be! Prepare you for your upcoming trials and challenges of being the boy-who-lived." he made a nearly dramatic pause before finishing off, with what he believed would seal the boys' determination.

"You would make your Parents proud Harry James Potter! Them and me, if you wish to do so. I can show you how."

Harry swallowed audibly at that.

The young boy let his gaze sweep across the room. There were very different emotions on each of the occupant's faces. The first one was the one of Igor Karkaroff. He still seemed to be waiting on the order to torture the Dursleys to insanity.

But at the same time, he had paid great attention to what the old man had told Harry. At certain points in the rant of the blond man, Karkaroff had nodded or shaken his head more or less enthusiastically than other times.

The second gaze he caught, was the gaze of the woman that had accompanied the three of two other men. Apolline Delacour.

The mother of a daughter that was supposed to be around his age and the wife of a politician or something else equally influential in France. He didn't really care for the second part, but there was a strange pull to her at the thought of her being a mother.

The gaze she gave him, provided him with a sense of security and welcoming. Every time he had looked at her, he suddenly had the strange need to prove himself to her. To make sure she was paying attention to him and to hope that she would approve of him or even be proud.

These were all emotions he solely remembered from looking at one other person in his life. His own mother. The thought of the Delacours being there for him, especially after only recently having lost his own family, was very comforting.

He wouldn't be alone anymore.

Then there were the three Dursleys. Well, two Dursleys that really mattered in this case, as the youngest of the three, their one-year-old son Dudley, was currently fast asleep and entirely oblivious to the ongoings in the very same room.

Vernon and Petunia shared a similar look of extreme panic and despair. They both were pale and in Petunias case even shaking. There was nothing else they could possibly do. If they called the police and told them there was a convicted mass murderer, someone who was charged with torture but evaded prison and the wife of the French minister of magic in their home, they would be laughed at, send to a mental asylum or both.

There was something strangely satisfying at seeing them this helpless. They were so afraid of them, of him. It was like all the pain and suffering they had caused him since he was here just had been repaid tenfold.

It was then when he first realized that what the old man, Grindelwald, had told him, was entirely the truth.

Since he had arrived, brought here by none other than Albus Dumbledore himself, they had only cared about themselves. They had used him. They had abused him. He would never have been more than the punching back of little Duders.

Of course, they had taken him in, instead of forcing him to leave right after Dumbledore had left. This had to be worth something, right?

In reality, this didn't matter, as he probably would have rather starved out in the street than being mistreated by the Dursleys as he had been.

'But they only had a week, maybe they would have changed. Maybe you should give them another chance.' This little voice was talking in his head. His good side. His conscience was trying to save him from something he could regret.

'But would you really regret it? They wouldn't morn your death, cry for you or think back on the good and bad times. There were no good times. Only bad times. Grindelwald is offering you a chance, Harry! Take it! Then you will go to your sister and bring her with you to your new family.'

In a classic comic, this inner conflict would probably have been a portrait by an angel and a devil sitting on his shoulders, whispering things in his ear.

The last gaze that Harry met was the intense stare of the 'bad man'. The one he was supposed to fear. The one who was supposed to be his enemy. The one who showed him compassion and was a guiding light in the darkness of the Muggle world.

He had only spoken truths thus far. Why not go with him and see if he was truly offering what he promised.

If that was the case, If he truly was a part of his plans to rise to power and to save the wizarding world like it was supposed to. Then he knew what side he would pick. Yet he wasn't entirely sure what choice he had.

"What would you do if I said no." Harry asked. There was a cold wave running through the eyes of the man standing before him.

Then Grindelwald started laughing. It wasn't the laugh that would be heard after a joke had been told. It was a laugh that made shivers run down his spine. The room temperature sank drastically.

"Oh, Harry. What do you think we will do If you refuse?" Grindelwald turned the question. This made Harry a lot more uncomfortable then it should have made him. It almost felt like Grindelwald had just claimed Harry had betrayed his trust.

He only shook his head before answering in a clear cut tone, eyes shining defiantly. He was going to make his parents proud of him. He would be going take his sister from the orphanage where she was at or where ever else Dumbledore could have brought her.

His eyes shone defiantly green, his gaze rushed around the room one last time before he whispered to the old man his choice.

Grindelwald leaned back and measured up the young boy standing before him.

"Are you sure this is your choice, Mr Potter?" Gellert spoke loudly. "I don't often give people a second chance to choose."

With a surprisingly firm voice for a four-year-old who had just made a life-changing decision, he answered loud and clear "Yes, I am sure!".

There was a great certainty shimmering in his eyes as he spoke. He awaited what would happen next.

"Igor, Kill them!" Grindelwald spoke. "Kill them all, quickly!" The booming voice of the wizard commanded.

"Vinally, ve have vasted much time in this house already." Igor spoke loudly "It is a vonder Dumbledore hasn't arrived yet. But he vill be here soon."

"Yes, but it will be too late Igor," Grindelwald muttered. "He will have lost his golden boy by then."

Onlookers would have seen a few green strokes of light in this part of the Londoner suburbs. No one had any clue of the ramifications of these evenings events for the long term future of the wizarding world.

A few hundred miles north, back in the round office of the headmaster of the Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry a loud ear-shattering scream could be heard, which radiated from one of the little complex machines that were sitting on the shelves. Then there were more sounds joining in. Soon all of them were going off, screaming and drumming like wild animals being hunted down.

The commotion in the main room of his office had caught the headmasters attention. As he realized what was going on, all the colour had been drained from the headmasters face.

'This was not supposed to happen' was the last thing he remembered thinking before everything went to shit.

Hope was gone for the headmaster. He hadn't felt this miserable in many decades. He now stood alone against everything.

Soon he would have to move against Grindelwald again.

He felt like he had felt the last time he realised this.

Because, after all:

History repeats itself

A/N: Hope you enjoyed reading this far. Please let me know what you think, based on how you feel about this chapter I will maybe write a follow-up.

Since I have written this one, I doubt there will be a next chapter for Bound Through History coming this week. (One of my other stories, the only one so far I am actually really proud of. Most people don't read further then the first chapter, as that one is not that great, but If you read this note here, please give it a try.)

A/N II: I've edited some parts of the chapter on the suggestion of one of the reviewers. Thank you Blackson88 for pointing that out to me. I had forgotten about some of his points in the speech and for some reason just turned him into another Voldemort, but German.

In the second chapter I am currently working on this error won't be brought up again, I've already changed all of that.

Please do point out more errors like this to me, my dear readers, as slip-ups like this are bound to happen.

Thank you again and I hope you will enjoy the upcoming chapter.