"Do you know what made your grandfather so good at what he did?" Elara Voss asked through the barred door from the other cell.
Gellert had been good at many things, leading, talking, magic just anything that was needed of a leader, he had it. but many fail to realize that people just wont follow someone with out anything. You cant lead a pig without a treat.
"Fear." She said with a sigh.
Fila had settle don the floor of the cell, leaning with her back against the door close to the door.
"Fear," Elara repeated with a dry chuckle. "The fear that muggles brought. War. Eradication of our world. Gellert understood that better than anyone. People don't follow dreams alone. They follow when you show them the blade at their throat."
Fila stared at the opposite wall, blindfold shifting slightly as she tilted her head.
"So he gave them an enemy," she said quietly. "Made the muggles the monster. United wizards under the promise of safety… at the cost of everything else."
Elara hummed in approval.
"Smart girl. Most people who carry the name only see the glory or the madness. They forget he was right about one thing — the muggle world was dangerous. Still is. They just wrapped it up in pretty words like 'progress' and 'equality' while building weapons that could wipe us all out in a single afternoon."
Fila was silent for a long moment, fingers tracing the chain of her cuffs.
"I don't want to be him," she said finally, voice low but steady. "I don't want to lead anyone with fear. But… I understand it."
Elara's voice softened just a fraction.
"That's the trap, child. You don't have to be him. But you carry the same blood. The same power. The same name. They'll always see him when they look at you. The question is whether you let their fear control you… or whether you learn to use it."
Footsteps echoed down the corridor again. A guard passed by, wand out, giving both cells a warning glare before moving on.
"Since you used to be an advisor, would you listen to an idea I've been thinking about?" Fila asked still looking at the wall, twirling a flower she had grown out from a mushroom that had grown in the corner of the cell.
Elara nodded, "Sure."
Fila took a deep breath, she had thought about this for a very long time. but never told it to anyone, so finding it and placing it to words proved rather difficult.
"I want to wipe out dark wizards." She said plainly.
Elara Voss went completely still for a moment. Then a low, rasping laugh escaped her, echoing down the damp corridor like dry leaves scraping stone.
"Wipe out dark wizards," she repeated slowly, as if tasting the words. "Bold. Ambitious. And more than a little ironic coming from a girl sitting in a MACUSA cell with the Grindelwald name hanging over her like a noose."
Fila twirled the small black-and-crimson flower she had coaxed from the corner mushroom. Its petals shifted subtly, tiny thorns glinting at the edges. She didn't look away from the opposite wall.
"They are the reason I don't have eyes anymore, and so much more." Fila explained. "If the world keeps letting them exist… nothing changes. We as a magical society should let wizards and witches be just that, and the dark wizards wants to remove someone because they weren't born into a wealthy family, or just because they don't have the 'pure' blood."
The explanation had made herself irritated just thinking about it.
Elara leaned closer to her bars, her sharp eyes studying the back of Fila's head.
"And who decides who's dark, little one? You? The Ministry? The same people who just dragged you in here for defending yourself? That line is thinner than you think. Your grandfather started the same way wanting to protect our kind from muggles. Look where it led."
Fila's fingers paused on the flower's stem.
"I know. That's why I won't use fear as the weapon. I'll use clarity. Precision. Cut out the ones who enjoy causing pain. The ones who hide behind 'Voldemort' while they destroy everything around them."
She finally turned her head slightly toward Elara's cell.
"You advised him. You saw what happens when the blade swings too wide. So tell me honestly, is it possible? Or am I just another fool chasing the same dream with different words?"
The old witch was quiet for a long time. The only sound was the distant drip of water and the faint hum of the suppression wards.
"Possible?" Elara finally said, voice low. "Yes. But it would cost you everything. Your friends. Your name. Maybe your soul. The moment you start deciding who deserves to live or die, you become the very thing you're trying to destroy. Gellert learned that the hard way."
Fila crushed the flower in her palm. It dissolved into black ash that drifted to the floor.
"if they want to become my enemies because I try to save them, then they are jus plainly stupid."
Elara saw something right there, a flicker or an image she had long ago forgotten. Gellert sitting and talking about his idea of a perfect world.
Elara let out a long, tired sigh.
"You're young. Angry. Betrayed. That's a dangerous combination. But if you ever decide to walk that path… you'll need more than flowers and good intentions. You'll need allies who remember what real war looks like."
Footsteps approached again, guards making their rounds.
Elara pulled back from the bars.
"Think carefully, Grindelwald. Some blades only cut the hand that wields them."
Fila stayed on the floor, staring at the ash on the stone.
Fila didn't sleep much that night, instead she sat and listened and thought about everything. The plan she had, wiping out every dark wizards wasn't some new idea.
She had just become tired of hearing, muggles and half blood. why did it matter so much to some?
Even the idea that pure bloods were stronger in itself is wrong. Dumbledore is only half blood and he's probably the strongest wizard alive right now. And when you thought about it, she couldn't name one pure blood who is truly strong. But she did consider herself plenty strong, but she wields some ancient magic that seem to throw any magical law in the trash so its not really a fair comparison.
And even thinking about it, would she really have a problem with people going against her? Her objective to wipe out dark wizards meant the safety of millions of people.
Thinking about all this made her sleepy, sadly the bed wasn't as good as Castlebruxos. even calling it a bed could be considered a joke, more of a wooden plank tied to a wall.
As Fila found herself stuck in the cell in one of the MACUSAS prisons, days went by without much of anything. Noone came to visit her, no mention about what was happening, nothing.
Elara told her to calm down, they hadn't even stripped her of her school clothes yet. Which meant they were only holding her.
But holding her for this amount of time without anything, that made Elara frown.
Elara's frown deepened as another day blurred into the next. She shifted on her bench, the chains on her own wrists rattling softly.
"They're holding you too long without formal charges," she muttered, voice carrying clearly through the bars. "No hearing. No visitors. No transfer. That's not standard procedure, even for MACUSA. They're either waiting for something… or someone."
Fila sat on the floor again, back against the door, legs stretched out. The wooden plank that passed for a bed had left her back aching, but she preferred the floor. It felt more honest.
She had spent the last few days cycling through the same thoughts, the hypocrisy of blood purity, the casual cruelty of "dark wizards," the way fear and superiority had poisoned their world for generations. The more she turned it over, the heavier it became.
"Maybe they're hoping I rot here long enough to beg," Fila said quietly. "Or maybe they're scared of what happens when Vinda finds out."
Elara gave a low chuckle.
"Both, probably. Your grandmother has a reputation that still makes old aurors check their wards twice. But the longer they keep you in limbo, the more it smells like politics. Someone high up wants you off the board. The tournament made you too visible. Too strong. Too much like him."
Fila traced idle patterns in the thin layer of dust on the floor, small vines of black ash blooming and dying under her fingertip.
"What do you regret and not regret most about the time with my grandfather?" Fila asked suddenly.
The question caught Elara of guard and she had to thoroughly think about her answer.
The other prisoners laughed, Ophelia had gotten to know some of them. all of them members of the Grindelwald army once. Carrying out the orders of the dark lord of the time.
They also shared their opinion of the newest dark lord, Voldemort.
A laugh, that's what they thought about him. Nothing but a joke to the old wizarding community.
Most of them said the same thing. "Couldn't even take Britain properly. Ran around with snakes and masks like a child throwing a tantrum. Grindelwald at least had vision. This 'Dark Lord' was just petty cruelty wrapped in a fancy title."
Another voice joined in, an older woman a few cells down.
"Exactly. Our Gellert wanted a new order for all wizards. This Voldemort just wanted to lick his own wounds and kill mudbloods for fun. Pathetic."
A few scattered chuckles echoed through the block. Fila found herself smiling faintly despite everything.
"Seems the old guard isn't impressed," she murmured toward Elara.
Elara gave a dry snort.
"They're not wrong. Voldemort was a shadow of what your grandfather represented. Flash and terror, but no real philosophy beyond hate. At least Gellert tried to build something, even if it crumbled."
Fila leaned her head back against the door.
"I keep thinking about that line," she said softly. "Between protecting people and becoming the monster you fight. If I go after the dark ones… how long until someone looks at me and says the same thing they said about him?"
Elara didn't answer immediately. When she did, her voice was unusually gentle.
"That's the question every idealist eventually faces in here, girl. Some of us never found the answer. Others… stopped looking."
The conversation faded again as guards passed by for their rounds. Fila remained on the floor, lost in thought.
The days continued to drag. No visitors. No updates. Just the damp stone, the muffled voices of old Grindelwald loyalists, and the growing weight of uncertainty.
Fila never got the answer of what Elara regrated and not. Maybe she wanted to hold that for herself.
Magic could do a lot. Blow thing up, build them up, teleport you great distances and much much more.
Before arriving here, they took her wand. Not that she needed it to cast her spells, wandless magic had been a thing for her since early. But she didn't know if she should.
Prisons like this are heavily protected by wards and charms to keep people in and out. Meaning if she did cast a spell, it wouldn't go unnoticed.
Could it also be a trip to lure her out to use spells? Yes, highly likely. Elara speculated that they were waiting for her to do something stupid to make her sit here even longer.
Since they hadn't charged her with anything yet, they were most likely fishing for anything they could get their dirty hands on. So blowing a hole and escaping wouldn't be the best course of action.
One strong spell and the wards would light up like a Christmas tree. They'd have all the evidence they need to keep me here forever.
She exhaled slowly, letting the idea fade. Patience. That was what Elara kept hinting at. The same patience her grandfather had lacked when the fire grew too hot.
"Smart not to try," Elara said, as if reading her thoughts through the bars. "They're watching you closer than the rest of us. You're fresh meat with a famous last name. One spark of magic and they'll slap on more charges faster than you can say 'Grindelwald.'"
Fila gave a small, tired smile.
"I figured. They're not just holding me. They're waiting for me to slip. Hoping I'll give them a reason to make this permanent."
From a few cells down, the rough male voice from earlier chuckled.
"Smart girl. That's how they got half of us in here. Waited until we were angry enough to do something stupid. Then slammed the door shut for good."
Fila listened to the scattered voices of the old followers. These weren't fanatics screaming for a new war. They sounded tired. Worn down by decades in places like this. Some still believed in the old cause. Others had clearly lost faith long ago.
She finally spoke again, directing her words toward Elara.
"You never answered my earlier question. What do you regret most about your time with him? And what don't you regret?"
Elara was quiet for nearly a full minute. When she answered, her voice was lower, almost private.
"I regret how many good people we lost. How the fear we used to unite us eventually turned inward. We started burning our own when they questioned the path. That… that was the real poison."
She paused.
"What I don't regret? The nights when it felt possible. When it seemed like we could actually build something better. When your grandfather spoke and the whole room believed the world could change. Even if it didn't… those moments were real."
Fila absorbed the words in silence.
The days continued to drag. No visitors. No letters from Fontaine or June. No word from Vinda. Just the damp smell, the occasional guard patrol, and the low conversations of broken idealists.
One thing she got from this was patience. Sitting and waiting all days for something really tested the limits of the little thunderbird stuck in its cage.
One afternoon (or what she guessed was afternoon), Elara spoke again, softer than usual.
"You're holding up better than most who come through here. That fire in you… it's controlled. Dangerous. But controlled. Your grandfather would've been proud of that much, at least."
Fila gave a small, tired smile.
"I'm not sure that's a compliment."
Before Elara could reply, the heavy doors at the end of the corridor slammed open with unnatural force. The suppression wards flickered visibly, and the temperature in the block seemed to drop several degrees.
Heavy footsteps echoed purposeful, commanding, and furious.
Vinda Rosier strode down the hall like a storm given human form. Her dark robes, edged with silver runes, billowed behind her. Beside her walked Evan Rosier, tall and sharp-featured, his expression cold and dangerous. Flanking them were several wizards in formal international robes, clearly not MACUSA personnel. Vinda had brought her own people.
The guards stepped aside quickly, faces pale.
Vinda stopped directly in front of Fila's cell. Her sharp eyes scanned her granddaughter through the bars, taking in the cuffs, the blindfold, the damp stone.
"Ophelia," Vinda said, her voice low but vibrating with barely contained rage. "They dared."
Fila stood up slowly, chains rattling. For the first time in days, something warm flickered in her chest.
"Grandmother," she said calmly, though her voice carried clear relief. "Took you long enough."
Evan smirked beside Vinda, though his eyes remained hard.
"They didn't let us in, and only after both Headmaster Fontaine AND Dumbledore told them to you go did they accept." Evan said while looking around the prison corridor.
"Release my granddaughter. Now. Or I will make this entire facility disappear from the map."
The official stammered, "This is an international matter, Mrs. Rosier. The charges—"
"Charges?" Vinda's voice turned icy. "My granddaughter defended herself in a sanctioned tournament after another champion nearly murdered her teammate. And you drag her here in chains like a common criminal? You will release her immediately, or I will ensure every one of you loses your position before the sun sets."
Evan leaned casually against the wall, but his wand was already in his hand.
"I'd listen to her," he said lightly. "Mother doesn't make idle threats."
Fila watched through the bars, calm but with a quiet intensity. The storm had arrived.
With some hesitation from the guards, they finally opened the door and released her chains and cuffs. Fila rubbed the spot where the cuffs had been for all this time.
"Oh grandma, meet my cell companion." Fila pointed her hand to the cell. "Elara.." she began.
Vinda's sharp eyes flicked to Elara's cell, a faint, almost nostalgic smirk tugging at the corner of her lips.
"Elara Voss," voice laced with dry amusement. "Still breathing, I see. The years haven't been kind."
Elara leaned against her bars, grinning despite the chains.
"And yet you still look like you could freeze a room with a glance. Some things never change, Rosier."
Fila watched the exchange quietly, rubbing her wrists where the cuffs had left red marks. It was strange seeing two pieces of her grandfather's past standing on opposite sides of iron bars — one free and furious, the other worn but unbroken.
Evan chuckled softly beside Vinda.
"We can catch up on old times later," he said, glancing down the corridor as more MACUSA officials hovered nervously at a distance. "Right now, we have a very angry Headmaster Fontaine waiting outside with a mountain of paperwork and threats. Dumbledore apparently threw his name around too. They didn't have much choice but to release you."
Fila raised and eyebrow, "Dumbledore helped? Why?"
Evan shrugged. "No clue, maybe he likes you. hes always been a man of justice."