"Ahem."
The man at the desk froze as the voice spoke from behind him, then he rubbed his chin thoughtfully as his eyes narrowed in contemplation.
"My old friend Albus visited me last month and since he only visits once a year, I truly doubt that you are he." He stated slowly. "The guards are generally not nearly so polite as to announce their presence in this way and besides, their boots mean that I can hear them approaching as they climb the stairs on their daily visit, the last of which was almost two hours ago.
"The House-elf who transports my food and clothing is under strict orders to not engage me in conversation and indeed, to ignore me completely while he is doing his tasks. The few remaining guard-golems do not have the ability to speak and even if they did, like their now-broken Commander, they would have a very metallic voice.
"It is impossible to Apparate within half a mile of this fortress and the wards are specially designed to physically repel any living thing other than a human, meaning that Animagi cannot sneak through. Similar wards protect against Muggles. In addition, broomsticks cannot operate within the wards… actually, they can, but they are uncontrollable, causing their riders to crash almost at once.
"There is no metaphysical chill, so you are not a Dementor. I remain unattacked, so you are not an Inferi. Your voice wasn't deep enough to be a giant and while I admit there is a minor possibility that you could have been a centaur, I am currently facing the only door to my cell and centaurs are too large to enter through the window, even assuming that they were somehow able to climb the sheer wall outside.
"As you sound male, the chance of you being a Veela is minute and a Goblin would have interrupted me by now.
"I admit, I am at a loss."
The man slowly turned round, his wrinkled face coming into view and his eyes widened slightly as he saw the dark-haired handsome man leaning against the wall just by the window.
"Well… hello."
"Good afternoon, Mr Grindlewald." The man replied, straightening up and bowing slightly. "I do hope I have not come at a bad time?"
"Not at all and please, call me Gellert." The man smiled, his eyes taking in the way that the carefully-tailored robe was tight enough to emphasize his visitor's nearly-perfect body. "And whom might you be, if you would be so kind as to enlighten an old man?"
"I have many names. Like you, I am known to the unwashed masses as a Dark Lord."
"Voldemort." Gellert realized, earning a nod of confirmation. "I am surprised to see you here. I had heard that you had gone insane, then died."
"That is true… from a certain point of view." Voldemort agreed. "My research was not as complete as it should have been and I overlooked the downsides of creating multiple Horcruxes."
Gellert winced and Voldemort chuckled.
"Fortunately, I chanced upon a way to regain the sanity that I had lost. Looking back, I must say that although insanity allows one to come up with unanticipated plans, tactics and even spells, it does have a very distressing effect on ones ability to calculate odds and predict opponents. I would not recommend it."
Gellert chuckled at the deadpan tone of the comment, then he leaned back in his chair and steepled his fingers.
"So, Tom… yes, Albus did tell me all about you. Why are you here? Do you seek the wand that I once held?"
Voldemort shook his head. "No. Oh, owning the Elder Wand would certainly be quite useful, but I have deduced its location. It resides in the hand of the man who defeated you and who led Britain against me. Albus Percival Wulfric Brian Dumbledore."
"So why are you here?" Gellert probed.
"You once had a dream, a dream where we Magicals would rule over the Muggles, directing them, commanding them and thus assuming what you once claimed to be our rightful position. No longer hiding in the corners and slinking through the shadows, but instead striding across the lands as benevolent rulers… and as their gods. Do you still dream of this?"
Gellert leaned forwards, his eyes almost burning with intensity. "More than ever!"
Voldemort smiled as he pulled out a familiar-looking wand and tossed it to Gellert. "I have an offer. Accept or decline as you will, either one suits my purposes. You are growing old and do not have much time left. Will you join forces with me? Will you teach me that which I have yet to learn? Will you decide to stride forth with me as we summon those who can see the bright future that we, working together can bring to fruition, first in the United Kingdom, then Europe, America, Asia and the world?"
"And, if I refuse?" Gellert asked, turning the wand over in his hands.
"Then I shall simply leave. The guards are asleep, a potion introduced to their food has them sleeping and it will be three days before they awake. The elf is also asleep. I have an ally stood by the Wardstone and at my signal, he will destroy it. Once that is done, you will have full use of your magic and you will be able to leave… in the knowledge that your old friend will know instantly that the Wards are no more and thus will seek you out once more and this time, this time he has the wand and your old allies will not be there for you."
"And so I will be nothing more than a distraction, causing my old friend to concentrate on returning me here while you continue to place your plans in motion, unencumbered by his presence." Geller deduced with a faint smile of approval on his face. "Very clever."
Voldemort smiled, but didn't answer and Gellert reached behind him to pick up a quill, using his wand to transfigure it into a belt-holster.
"I think I shall go with you." Gellert finally decided as he fastened the holster to his robe and slid his wand into it. "I must ask, though, have you ever heard of something called an Obscurial?"
"…no, I have not." Voldemort admitted as he pulled a key out of his pocket and strode to the cell door. "Please, enlighten me."
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"How do I look?" Gellert asked as he tweaked the collar of his ruffled shirt slightly, then strode forwards in a way that allowed his over-robe to flutter like a cloak. The effect was enhanced by the walking stick which those who had experience in wandlore would have recognised as a Mages Staff.
"Dignified." Voldemort replied as he glanced up from the table of magical objects that he was perusing. "I must say, I am impressed that your spells kept this hideaway so well preserved."
"After my misadventures in America, thanks in no small part to interfering busybody Newt Scamander, I decided that having fallback plans was not so much an indulgence as a necessity." Gellert sighed as he moved around to table to stand by Voldemort's side. "This is one of several hideouts I constructed, although it is the largest and best equipped."
A squeaking sound interrupted them and both men turned to look at the door where Peter Pettigrew (clad in a fairly sharp suit) was wheeling in a trolley on which a tea set and a plate of cakes was arranged.
"Thank you, Peter." Voldemort said as Peter brought the trolley to a stop beside the table and began transferring the contents onto a clear space on the table.
Peter bowed nervously, his wide eyes darting to where Gellert was watching him with an amused expression, then finished moving the food across before skittering out of the room.
"Why do you use him?" Gellert asked as Voldemort started to pour tea for them.
"Peter? He's an Animagus who swore himself into my service years ago." Voldemort explained, handing the first teacup across to Gellert. "After that unfortunate incident where Potter somehow prevented the use of magic, save for the purely internal ones such as the Animagi skill, I have had him teaching me how to attain an Animagi form of my own as well as researching how other nationalities such as the Africans do it. Are you interested in attaining another form?"
"It sounds like it could be challenging." Gellert mused. "I'm in."
"The method he and his former friends used required a high degree of skill in Occlumancy." Voldemort pointed out and Gellert smiled.
"I had very little to do in my cell other than learn and think. My Occlumancy skills have never been sharper."
"In that case, perhaps you can help me brew the potion that they created to aid them in attaining their forms?"
"It would be a pleasure."
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"So, where are we planning to go first?" Gellert asked as he placed the fuming cauldron under a stasis charm in preparation for moving it.
"From what you have told me about Obscurials, I believe that America would be the best place to start once I retrieve one of my followers who will prove very useful." Voldemort replied, earning a slightly-puzzled look from the older wizard.
"America? I know that I once found an Obscurial there, but why do you think it would be a good place to begin? After all, they now know the signs…"
"Indeed they do, my learned friend, but they also have a very high number of religious Muggles who hate everything magical. I believe that they call it the Bible Belt. Did you know, recently one Muggle woman beat her nephew to death with a rock just because he read a book which had references to magic in it? With that sort of attitude…"
"Muggleborns would hide their ability to perform magic, try to conceal or deny it." Gellert realized.
"It's quite possible that it's why so many so-called tornadoes hit the areas known as trailer parks." Voldemort smirked as he watched his bookshelves neatly fold up and shrink into a small box that he picked up and slid into a pocket. "When you combine intolerance, lack of education, a fear of anything that could possibly be seen as different… and parents who either do not care for their offspring or have no idea how to raise them…"
"A perfect set of circumstances for the formation of an Obscurial." Gellert nodded to show that he followed Voldemort's logic.
"Indeed. However, actually finding one could be tricky."
"On the contrary." Gellert interjected as a wave of his wand sent his clothes streaming from his bedroom into one of the muggle-styled expanded suitcases. "I have developed a set of spells that should help us pinpoint Obscurials, both when active and when passive. Although their chaotic nature prevents them from being detected directly by magic, their passage leaves a certain trail and can be tracked. All I need to do is assemble the device that will focus the spells."
"Impressive." Voldemort smiled.
"…my lords?"
Both men paused, then turned to the doorway where Peter was cringing, holding a folded paper in his hands as if it were about to explode.
"Ah, Peter. Did you manage to confirm that he is indeed there?"
Peter nodded, then he slowly extended the folded paper. Voldemort plucked it from his fingers, then waved for Peter to depart as he unfolded it.
"Hmm. Good thing that we were preparing to leave. I wasn't expecting this to happen until tomorrow…"
"Someone found the guards." Gellert deduced and Voldemort nodded.
"Indeed. Pure happenstance, one of them hadn't fully paid his subscription to Die Nachrichten der Magier and the owl sent to him flew back without payment, alerting the paper to the fact that something was wrong. They contacted the Aurors and sent a couple of reporters… and your old friend went in with them."
"Good thing we reset all the alarms and Wards before we left." Gellert smirked. "They'll never figure out how I escaped."
"Leaving a sketched map of China was a masterstroke." Voldemort agreed as he continued reading. "It looks like it worked. They're setting up magical blockades on the border between Europe and Asia, hoping to catch you."
Both Dark Lords exchanged predatorial grins while several rooms away, Peter Pettigrew finished his packing and moved to the desk where he picked up the quill and started re-checking the sketched plans of the place where the head of the Department of International Co-operation lived.
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Authors Note – The reference to a woman killing her nephew for reading a fantasy book has its basis in fact. In America. a woman did indeed use a stone to beat her nephew to death after finding him reading a fantasy book. In court, she claimed that as he was reading a book about magic, he was a witch and that the bible said "Thou shalt not suffer a witch to live".
To make matters worse, that sentence is a mistranslation, a more accurate version is "Thou shalt not suffer a caster of evil spells to live", although some sources indicate that the original meaning may have been "Thou shalt not suffer a poisoner to live". One wonders how many people have been killed over the centuries because the translators screwed up…