[102 years before the Gilderoy Lockhart become DADA professor at Hogwarts]
Mercia Greengrass stood alone in the cold, silent depths of the chamber beneath Hogwarts, her hands still trembling from the weight of the task given to her. The echo of Salazar Slytherin's words lingered in the air, blending with the ancient magic that surrounded her. The Soul Arts—the vast knowledge on souls she had been given—seared into her mind, expanding her understanding of the universe, but it came at a price. A magical soul-binding contract, bound by Salazar Slytherin himself, pulsed inside her soul. The conditions were simple, yet daunting: she must either reach the Root of Magic herself or find a successor to continue the journey in her place. The weight of this responsibility settled deep within her bones.
Salazar had warned her. The Root of Magic was not something that could be understood within a single lifetime. The journey was too vast, the knowledge too deep. It was a truth that consumed her thoughts and made the concerns of the outside world seem petty, insignificant. She had glimpsed a fraction of the Root's infinite knowledge, and in that moment, she realized how shallow the divisions between "Light" and "dark" magic truly were.
The Soul Arts coursed through her, filling her mind with visions of the cosmos, of magic's true form, unbound by human limitations
A thought haunted her: Was she capable enough to reach the Root?
Days turned into weeks, and Mercia found herself graduating from Hogwarts with little fanfare. Her departure from the school that had shaped her destiny felt anticlimactic. She had always been a brilliant student, driven by curiosity and ambition, but after learning about the Root, everything she had accomplished seemed so trivial. The political squabbles, the factions within the wizarding world, the debates over white magic and dark magic—none of it mattered anymore.
The Root was all that mattered.
As she walked through the now-familiar corridors of Hogwarts one last time, she reflected on the task that bound her. The magical soul-binding contract was alive within her, a constant presence in her mind. It demanded fulfillment. She had two choices: to reach the Root herself and unlock the full extent of its knowledge, or, if she failed, to find a successor and transfer the knowledge of the Mind Arts—the magic that allowed the understanding of the Root—to them. The contract ensured that the successor must either reach the Root themselves or pass it on, creating a chain of sorcerers seeking the ultimate truth.
But Mercia wasn't sure if she wanted to find a successor. To give up meant failure, and failure was not something she could accept. Yet, the path to the Root was not what she had imagined.
Once out of Hogwarts, Mercia quickly realized that the world outside was not built for seekers of truth. It was built for survival, for politics, for control. And the more she delved into her studies, the more she realized the enormity of the task ahead of her. Reaching the Root—that infinite source of all magic, all knowledge—was beyond difficult. It was nearly impossible. The more she learned, the more she understood just how small she was in the grand tapestry of existence.
Months passed, then years. Mercia traveled the world, seeking ancient tomes, forbidden spells, and knowledge long forgotten by the wizarding world. She delved into the darkest corners of the magical world, looking for anything that could bring her closer to the Root. But the deeper she went, the more elusive the truth became. Every door was met with resistance from society's fear of embracing the unknown.
It was during one of these long, exhausting journeys that she began to remember the words of Salazar Slytherin. His teachings had been radical in his time, yet misunderstood by most. Mercia, in her moments of doubt, clung to his philosophy like a lifeline.
Salazar Slytherin had been a visionary, far more than the history books allowed. His obsession with blood purity had been a surface-level expression of a deeper belief: that magic, true magic, was beyond the grasp of any single human lifetime. His creation of Hogwarts had not been just a school to train wizards; it had been an experiment, a way to pass knowledge down through generations. He knew that no one wizard could ever reach the Root in their lifetime. But he believed that if he trained his students well enough, one of them—or one of their descendants—might.Thats why he pushed the pure blood idea cause only by standing on the shoulder of giants can one achieve this near impossible goal, but to teach a muggle would be like studying the same thing again and again , generation after generation without building up on something to progress.....[author's note:- kinda like mages association from nasuverse]
Salazar's dream was not of power for its own sake. He wasn't greedy for the Root's power, as many dark wizards were. He craved validation of his dreams. It was why he had left his secrets hidden in Hogwarts, buried beneath the school, waiting for someone like Mercia to find them.
As Mercia stood in an ancient ruin, far from the comforts of modern society, she reflected on this. Salazar had not wanted to dominate the world. He had wanted to understand it. Even if one of his successors reached the Root, it would not be about personal glory—it would be the fulfillment of a dream that spanned lifetimes.
But as Mercia looked at the world around her, she realized something terrible.
The philosophy on which Salazar had founded Hogwarts had been lost. The school had become a battleground for petty rivalries, for political factions. Light magic, dark magic—white and black. These were the terms that wizards now used to define themselves. They had reduced magic, something so vast and infinite, into categories, labels that divided them. The very thing Salazar had feared—the narrowing of magic into simplistic ideas—had come to pass.
The wizarding world was no longer a place for seekers of the Root. And Mercia realized that for anyone to reach the Root, for her to fulfill her contract, she would have to change that. She would have to create an environment where magic was no longer divided between "Light" and "dark."
Mercia's mind raced as she traveled back to Britain. She began to formulate her plan, her purpose now clear. The petty squabbles of the wizarding world—fights between factions, battles over blood purity, political games—these were distractions. They were keeping wizards from seeing the true nature of magic.
If she was to reach the Root, or find a successor who could, she would need to unite magic again. The lines between light and dark had to be blurred. Wizards had to understand that magic was not inherently good or evil—it was chaos, and it was knowledge. It was power to those who could wield it, but only if they understood it fully.
Her thoughts drifted to Salazar's legacy. He had founded Hogwarts with the hope that future generations would carry his vision forward. But now, the school had lost its way, just as the entire magical community had. What had once been a beacon of knowledge had become a place for political factions. Gryffindor versus Slytherin. Light versus dark. Good versus evil.
Mercia now understood what she had to do. If she was to fulfill her contract, if she was to reach the Root or find someone who could, she would need to reshape the wizarding world. The divisions between light and dark, white and black, had to be dismantled. She needed to create a world where wizards no longer feared knowledge, where they no longer saw magic as a tool for domination but as a means to reach something greater.
The first step would be to sow the seeds of doubt. The wizarding world was already teetering on the brink of conflict. The tension between light and dark was palpable. Mercia would exploit that tension. She would push both sides to see the futility of their struggle, to break down the barriers that kept them from seeing the truth.
And once the world was ready, she would find her successor—or perhaps, finally, reach the Root herself.
The Root was waiting. All she needed was the right moment to seize it.
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Mercia Greengrass had seen countless wizards pass through the halls of Hogwarts over the years, each one with their own dreams and ambitions. Most were driven by the petty desires of the age—political power, recognition, or family pride. Few ever possessed the vision that went beyond the confines of the world they knew. But when she first laid eyes on Gellert Grindelwald, she knew immediately that he was different.
He was only a boy then, not more than fourteen, but already the spark of something greater was visible in him. Mercia, hidden behind the scenes as always, observed him with growing interest.its a common saying that 'The eyes are the window of the soul' and through the Soul Arts, she saw in his eyes what others could not—the raw potential of his soul, the boundless ambition that lurked beneath his youthful arrogance.
Gellert didn't see the world as others did. He didn't care for the divide between light and dark magic. And that was exactly what Mercia needed.
In Gellert, she saw the perfect figurehead for her plans, someone who could sow the seeds of revolution in a world that had become stagnant. His natural charisma and strength would make him a leader, a symbol for the change she sought. But Gellert's ambitions alone were not enough. He would need guidance. He would need someone to shape him, mold him into the revolutionary he was destined to become. And Mercia would be that unseen hand.
From the shadows, Mercia began her work. She was careful not to reveal herself to Gellert too early. Instead, she watched, waiting for the right moment to begin influencing him. Over the years, she planted the seeds of rebellion in his mind—subtle hints, whispered ideas that took root and grew as he matured.
Through intermediaries and anonymous letters, Mercia fed Gellert forbidden knowledge. She introduced him to ancient texts and dark artifacts that had been hidden from the rest of the wizarding world. She ensured that he was exposed to ideas that challenged the status quo, ideas that questioned the division of magic into "Light" and "dark." Gellert, with his sharp mind devoured everything she provided him with, never knowing where these gifts truly came from.
He believed that he was uncovering these truths on his own, but in reality, Mercia was pulling the strings from behind the scenes. She carefully curated the knowledge he received, steering him toward the conclusion she needed him to reach—that the wizarding world was broken, and only through revolution could it be fixed.
Gellert grew into a man, powerful and charismatic, with a vision for a new world order—one where wizards ruled over muggles and where magic was not confined by outdated notions of morality. Mercia watched as he began to gather followers, wizards who shared his disdain for the current system. He was becoming exactly what she had intended—a symbol of change, a force that could tear down the old order and create the conditions needed to bring magic back to its undivided form.
When Gellert began his rise to power, Mercia allowed herself a moment of satisfaction. Everything was proceeding as planned. Gellert was now a revolutionary, speaking openly about the superiority of wizards and their right to rule over non-magical beings. His vision, though grand and dangerous, was exactly what the wizarding world needed—a radical shift that would break the old ways and lay the foundation for the future Mercia sought.
She continued to guide him, still from behind the scenes. Her hand was invisible, her influence subtle, but it was there. Every move Gellert made, every speech he gave, was in line with the revolution she had envisioned.
But despite her efforts to groom him, Mercia knew that Gellert was not without flaws. He was passionate, but he was also impulsive. His desire for power sometimes clouded his judgment. And though he didn't realize it, his revolution was never truly about understanding magic—it was about domination. Gellert's goal was to rule, not to uncover the deeper truths of the Root. Mercia knew this, but for now, she let him do what he wants as they were aligned in her purposes. She needed him to succeed, and for that, she allowed his flaws to persist.
But as Gellert's influence grew, so too did the forces against him. Mercia had known from the beginning that his greatest weakness would be his connection to Albus Dumbledore. The two had been friends once, perhaps even more than friends, and their bond was something that Mercia could never fully control. She had tried to sever their ties, whispering rumors and encouraging conflicts between them, but the bond remained.
It was this bond that would ultimately be Gellert's undoing.
When Gellert's revolution was at its peak, when it seemed that he might actually succeed in reshaping the wizarding world, Albus Dumbledore stepped forward to oppose him. Mercia watched from afar, her heart heavy with the knowledge that this was the end of her carefully constructed plan.
Gellert lost, as she had known he would. His power was great, but his heart was divided. His feelings for Dumbledore had always been his greatest weakness, and in the end, it had cost him everything.
Mercia felt no sorrow for his defeat. Gellert had served his purpose. He had sown the seeds of rebellion, shaken the foundations of the wizarding world, and proven that the old ways were fragile. His failure was a setback, but it was not the end. She would continue her work, finding a new figurehead, a new path to the Root. Gellert had been a tool, nothing more. And now, it was time for her to find another.