"I suggest you abandon that idea entirely, lady. There is nowhere on this planet you could flee that I cannot find you."
Vinda Rosier, after hearing those despair laced words, finally let go of the inner voices screaming inside her head to flee again, although she wasn't even certain that her first attempt could truly be called an attempt at all.
In any case, the facts sat stark and undeniable right in front of her, and she wasn't an ignorant fool. Just now, she had been profoundly enlightened to a single, brutal truth, that decisiveness alone meant nothing when faced with absolute power. And with that understanding, she took a hesitant step forward and slowly settled into the chair opposite him, her, "enlightener."
Even now, her hands were trembling uncontrollably as she struggled to comprehend what she had just experienced. Whether it had been real or some form of magic, she hadn't the faintest clue.
All she knew was that her Occlumency was not something just anyone could infiltrate or meddle with, and even if it had been a mage an entire rank above her, she was confident she would at least sense the intrusion. At least, until today, she had firmly believed that. How this young man had done it, if he had done it at all, or when, terrified her enough that she did not even dare to ask.
She forced herself to steady, drawing a few measured breaths, and at last, for the first time, she truly took in his face. Still indifferent, his eyes half-lidded as he observed her, she felt completely laid bare under his gaze.
And speaking of being exposed, "My lord… would it be acceptable if I conjure something to cover myself first?" She asked, doing her best to sound as calm as possible.
"I have not confiscated your wand, have I?"
She exhaled in relief at those words. Thank Merlin, she thought, this unfathomable boy was not a lecher. Her current situation was already dire enough, and if he had been, Azkaban would have been the least of her worries.
Slowly, she glanced down and saw that her hands were still trembling, but regardless, she made a tentative motion with her wand and managed to conjure a simple robe, finally covering herself.
Watching her struggle with a basic transfiguration, Maverick couldn't help but wonder if he had gone too far. She was a greatmagi, after all, and even if her mind was frayed from shock, executing something this simple should have been effortless for someone of her rank. Or was she putting on an act? And if so… what could she possibly hope to gain?
"Thank you, lord, for letting me—" she said between ragged breaths, but Maverick cut her off. Who was she trying to fool?
"I will ask again… what reason do you have for following that lunatic?" His voice was still as calm as ever, and this time she knew she had no choice but to answer.
"I…"
Her expression betrayed a mind tangled with conflicting thoughts, but just as Maverick suspected, she was not being entirely sincere. True, she was still shaken by the earlier inexplicable episode, yet not to the point where she could not speak coherently.
In reality, she knew that Azkaban—or some other magical prison—might well be waiting for her next. Yet deep down, she had not lost all hope.
In her mind, there was still a chance—a slim chance—that she could turn things around, and that chance depended entirely on making a deal with him. The leverage she could use was still unclear, but it had to be something, likely some piece of information.
After all, if Maverick intended to hand her over, why had he bothered to dialog with her first?
"My lord… I made a deal with him," she said finally, forcing herself to be honest after weighing the few options left to her. "I am not… not his devoted follower. He gets my help with his plan to… resurrect, and in return, once he recovers his magic, he will help me free my master from his prison."
"Hmm."
She saw only a mild change in his expression, a single brow arching slightly.
"My lord, I..."
"Cut the 'lord' nonsense, for Merlin's sake. I am no lord," Maverick interrupted again, irritation seeping into his tone. "So let me get this straight. You help him resurrect, and in return, he helps you break Grindelwald out of prison?" He tilted his head, genuinely perplexed.
It was not that the plan was entirely implausible, just that the chance of her plan succeeding—even if Riddle were to regain his full power—was exceedingly slim. First of all, as far as he knew, the prison had been personally enchanted by Dumbledore himself, alongside Nicolas Flamel and several other archmagi.
It was nothing like the original story, where the man had simply been locked in a tower that anyone could stroll into. Furthermore, from what he had read, coupled with his teacher's recollections of the world war half a century ago, Grindelwald certainly did not accept defeat or simply give up in the end.
From what Maverick could recall of the original story, that old man Grindelwald had remained locked up willingly after losing to Dumbledore. Later, Voldemort had indeed visited Nurmengard to inquire about the Elder Wand, as if he were merely paying a casual visit through the front door.
In contrast, the past in this reality was far more complex, and likewise, in the future, when Voldemort regained his prime power, infiltrating the prison in such a manner would be impossible.
For starters, the layers of defensive enchantments alone would make such a feat utterly impossible. Most importantly, the prison itself was said to be protected by a Fidelius, and no one, at least on record, knew the identity of the Secret Keeper.
This was not a secret, so why would a woman known for her cunning believe this plan could succeed?
"You do realize that your plan, if it can even be called one, has more than a few problems."
"I know who the Secret Keeper is," Vinda Rosier said firmly, lifting her gaze to meet his.
"Oh? Is it not Dumbledore?" Maverick asked. While the records claimed the identity was unknown, he had always assumed it was Dumbledore. Who else could it be?
"It is not that old monster," Rosier shook her head.
"Go on..."
"It is Anton Vogel."
"The Marquis from Germany?" Maverick asked, a little taken aback. After a brief pause, he added thoughtfully, "Yes, he was the Minister of Magic of Germany back then. But as far as I recall, he was only a magus at the time, and already quite old to be entrusted with such a responsibility... the Secret Keeper of a man that dangerous." He paused, then asked, "Is he even still alive?"
"More than just alive. First, it was precisely because he was only a magus that he was chosen, since no one would ever suspect a mere magus to be the Secret Keeper," Rosier said, nodding. "The original plan was to change it before he grew too old, but not long after the war, he broke into the marquis ranks, and that advancement was kept secret. And since the secret of the Secret Keeper himself remained secure, it was decided he would retain the role indefinitely."
"Interesting…" Maverick's curiosity was genuine now. "Pray tell, then, how did you come by information so… closely guarded?" His fingers twitched slightly while asking.
Meanwhile, unbeknownst to Rosier, the more she spoke, the more her nerves eased, to the point that she even leaned back a little more comfortably. A sarcastic smirk tugged at her lips as she spoke with open disdain, though Maverick neither knew nor cared whom it was directed at.
"In fact, it has a great deal to do with you. My lor… I mean, Mr Speaker."
"Me?"
"Yes." She chuckled softly. "Since the war against those extraterrestrials six months ago, the one you ensured the entire wizarding world witnessed without exception, many people have had their perspectives forcibly widened. Especially those of us who lived through the war fifty years ago. Those who once heard my master speak of what was to come."
Her lips curved into a faint, knowing smile. "Grindelwald warned us about this future. About technology. At the time, his words were mocked and dismissed. Today, you proved them true in real time. After witnessing that power firsthand, denial is no longer possible. If nothing changes, the magical world will face disaster because of technology. That outcome is... inevitable."
Her expression grew increasingly fanatical as she leaned forward, locking eyes with Maverick.
"And only he, Gellert Grindelwald, my great master, possesses the vision to stop what is coming. With his gift of foresight, he can guide us through the disaster ahead. You must understand, child. Only he can save us. Only he—"
"Right, right. He is your messiah," Maverick interrupted flatly.
Vinda Rosier let out a small scoff and crossed one leg over the other. "You know I am not wrong. How about this then. If you help me instead, I can take you directly to that moron's hideout and hand him over on a silver platter to you. I will even tell you his detailed plan—"
"Stop..." Maverick raised a hand and cut her off mid rant.
Had that subtle compulsion worked a little too well on her? In any case, most of what he needed to know had already been extracted. Now, there was just one last thing left.
"You just said many among you have been enlightened... so tell me, are there others like you, working with Riddle on this scheme?"
"I'm the only one in direct contact," she replied. Her expression then began changing ever so subtly, as if she were struggling to recall something, but she continued nonetheless. "Because only I, with my great-magi-level magic, have the capital to pursue that idiot and… and… compel him into an unbreakable vow… After… after he regains his power… he won't have any choice but... but to honor it… … … what… what did you do to me… again?"
A sigh finally escaped Maverick as he straightened and rose to his feet.
Meanwhile, Rosier's eyes went wide open, her pupils trembling as she stared down at her shaking hands, the realization finally slamming her like a train.
All this time, every thought she had, her plan to bargain with him, even that faint hope of turning the situation in her favor, it had been influenced by him all along. She had been deceived. Again. But when had it happened? How had she not noticed it? Again?
"I don't blame you... after all, Muggle psychology, or anything Muggle for that matter, isn't exactly something you lot would bother to guard against."
No… how is he reading my mind? I can't even sense an intrusion!
Her thoughts raced, colliding and spiraling, only to snap back to square one again. That decisive, act-first, talk-later witch. Panic surged, drowning out reason, and instinct took over. Then, with a sudden, sharp motion, she thrust her wand forward and cried out, "Avada—"
Unfortunately for her, she didn't get to finish. She never had, not from the very beginning.
Before she even realized what had happened, her hand was empty, her wand was gone, already resting calmly in the other party's grasp.
Thud.
All strength left her body and she slumped back into the chair.
"I do agree with you, lady," Maverick said as he stepped forward, vanishing her wand into his storage ring before sliding both hands into his coat pockets.
He looked down at her with utter indifference. "If the world does not change, what your master envisions is indeed inevitable."
At those words, she snapped her head back up again and met his gaze. All she saw were half-lidded, cold, and detached eyes, and even that last fragile spark of hope that had surfaced moments ago vanished instantly.
"... this world, it does not need a second savior."
He lifted one arm and lazily flicked his index and middle finger upward, and—
Spark... Swish!
Out of nowhere, thick orange strands, like molten metal, materialized from both sides and coiled tightly around her arms and legs. With a groan, she was yanked backward, her limbs bound and forced into a crouched position. Maverick showed not the slightest trace of mercy.
To her credit, in that moment, her eyes never left him once. Was it pride, arrogance, or unwillingness, he didn't really care which. Down on her knees, hands and feet bound backward, only her head tilted upward, she watched him with burning red eyes.
"And you," she heard him say, "are nothing more than a 'variable' that needs to be removed before that day arrives."
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Author's Note:
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