"What sort of research?" Ron asked, curiosity written all over his face.
"Mental arts," Julian replied, keeping his tone level. "Occlumency, Legilimency, Confundus, Stupefy, Obliviate, that kind of thing. I suppose it goes without saying, but the blood used to confirm my heritage was not given willingly, and I'd like to make sure nothing like that happens again."
He kept a careful grip on his temper as he spoke. He had already bled off most of his fury through revenge, but that did not make the topic easy to discuss.
"Aye," Ron said grimly. "That was a right foul thing for the Headmaster to do."
No one found Julian's interest in the mind arts strange. Considering what had happened, the reason was obvious.
...
Far away, high in the Austrian mountains, a half ruined castle stood against the cold like a forgotten relic, its broken stone making it look abandoned at first glance.
The truth was the opposite.
Dozens of powerful wards layered the grounds, invisible and dense, and a rotating five man squad of elite Aurors patrolled the perimeter with constant vigilance. Yet despite all of that preparation, only one person lived inside the castle's walls.
An old man with heterochromia, two eyes that did not match, and short hair combed neatly into place, a sharp contrast to the wild long beard that covered his lower face. His features were narrow without being skeletal, and a peaceful little smile rested on him as if it belonged there permanently.
If Julian had been present, he would have noticed something odd right away. Even though the room the man occupied looked comfortable, not a single object within it was magical.
Only the man himself carried magic.
That fact did not seem to bother him in the slightest.
He lifted one narrow finger, and the spoon in his tea cup stirred gently, turning the liquid in calm circles. A moment later the spoon rose out of the cup and settled neatly on the napkin beside it.
Soon after, one of the Aurors entered with a stone hard expression and tossed a copy of the Daily Prophet toward the old man before leaving without a word.
...
The paper hit the man with no gentleness at all, but his expression did not shift, as if he had grown accustomed to being treated that way. He glanced at the headline, one eyebrow lifting in mild interest, and began to read.
When he finished, the smile on his face widened.
He let out a dry raspy chuckle, the sound rough from disuse, as though he had not spoken aloud in a long time.
"It seems you have angered a rather resourceful little fellow, my old friend," the man said to the empty air, yet his voice still seemed to hang in the room after the words left his mouth. "How interesting."
...
"Perhaps I should pay this young man a visit," he mused, still speaking to no one. "I am terribly bored at the moment, and he seems quite amusing."
Then he laughed loudly, the sound echoing through the castle.
Outside, the Aurors heard it clearly. One of them muttered in frustration, "Why do they not just kill the monster instead of keeping him locked up here where he might escape?"
The Auror leading the squad sighed, already tired of the question.
"It is not that they do not want to kill him," he answered seriously. "It is that they cannot. Even with all these restrictions, he is still strong enough to slaughter every one of us."
His tone darkened.
"It is only because of a deal Grindelwald has with Dumbledore that he sits there quietly without causing trouble."
"Then why are we even here?" another Auror demanded, anger sharp in his voice.
"We are not here to ensure he cannot leave," the leader said, stern and flat. "We are here to warn the rest of the world if he does."
The entire squad's expressions turned grim at that, but no one argued.
...
"Then I suggest you be on your way," an old raspy voice said calmly, "unless you would rather waste your time here."
Every Auror froze.
They turned toward the sound with sudden fear tightening their faces.
Outside the castle's only entrance and exit stood the old man, wearing that same small peaceful smile as if nothing at all had changed.
The squad snapped their wands up at once, hands shaking, but their stance held.
"Grindelwald!" the leader shouted, forcing strength into his voice even though fear was obvious in his eyes. "Return to the castle immediately, or prepare to face the consequences!"
"No," Grindelwald said lightly. "I do not think I will. Thank you."
And then he began to fade, his body thinning like heat shimmer, dissolving into the air like a mirage.
The Aurors went pale.
...
With a heavy heart, the leader pulled a small device from his pocket, a fragile looking crystal orb, and threw it down.
It shattered on the ground.
...
In the office of the Austrian Minister of Magic, a heavy set middle aged woman with brown hair and brown eyes went rigid as the sound of crystal breaking filled her room.
For one hopeful heartbeat she tried to tell herself it might be nothing.
An illusion. A mistake.
That hope died when she turned her head toward a specific spot in the office and saw that a particular failsafe device had activated.
She understood immediately.
Grindelwald was free.