Chapter 91: Aftermath.

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Gringotts Wizarding Bank

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Deep beneath Diagon Alley, far below the grand marble halls and chandeliers of Gringotts Bank, the doors to a meeting chamber carved from obsidian rock with enchanted torches that burned against the walls, closed. The light reflected the rows of gold and steel that decorated the table where the Goblin clans’ highest sat, and at the head of the table, the Goblin King slammed a clawed hand onto the polished stone, baring his sharp teeth – some of which had been replaced with gold and silver implants. 

The veins along his temple pulsed as he hurled a gleaming goblin-silver spoon across the chamber, striking the wall with a clear ping and clattering to the floor. “Grey’s silver,” he snarled. “...Dragon silver! Or whatever the fuck he wants to call the damned abomination!” he roared, seeming to get more frustrated as the words left his mouth. “Do you see this insult? He forges our metal – our sacred craft! – and sells it to wizards as though he were born of our blood!”

No one dared speak as he jabbed a finger toward the fallen spoon. “They use our craft to eat their food, to decorate their homes, to line their vaults – all at half our prices! And you all sit here,” he swept his gaze over them, “as if this insult were a passing inconvenience!”

One of the clan heads, an older goblin with a scar down his cheek and the sigil of the Ironspine clan on his armour, cleared his throat carefully. “Your Majesty… we’ve been pressuring the Wizard’s government rather heavily. The Wizengamot appears to be on our side on this matter and is currently holding debates on new restrictions to be imposed on Grey. It’s only a matter of time before –”

The rest never left his mouth as a silver goblet flashed through the air and shattered against the wall just beside his head. His honed reflexes allowed him to manoeuvre his body in time, ducking instinctively as the King snarled. “Restrictions?! You expect them to restrict a man who gives them their silver and fills their coffers?! We had had these conversations before – when we first realised the sale of our goods, remember? It has only gotten worse since then.”

He rose, towering over the goblin heads, despite his stature, and panned his rage-filled and prideful eyes over their seated forms. “Grey’s bank offers them wealth, power, and freedom from our prices! Our monopoly! Wizards will not chain him, you fool – they will line up to serve him!”

A heavy silence filled the room. None of the Goblin heads dared move as the King’s breathing slowly steadied. Finally, he lowered himself into his throne of black steel, lowering his voice while he continued to seeth. “If we are to survive, we must remind them what happens when they forget who forged this world’s wealth.” He drummed his clawed fingers against the armrest. “Begin reforging the larger war-forges. Summon all the smiths from their holds. Tell them the King commands a new commission.”

He clenched his jaw as a resigned expression made its way to his face. “Armour. For every able goblin. Warplate, blades, shields – all of it. If the wizards won’t respect our craft, they’ll remember our wars.” The Goblin King’s eyes burned brighter as he leaned forward, letting out a dangerous growl. “We will accelerate our initial plans for a new treaty the moment they are done.”

The clan heads exchanged uneasy glances – not out of fear for the Wizards, but at the recklessness perceived in the idea of rushing the plans their elders had concocted. The King did not even fault them for it, for he would have thought the same if he were in their position. However, they were young, most having defeated the previous seat holders and not even being part of the meeting months ago when their monopoly was challenged.

The chamber went quiet again as the unasked question hung in the air. The Goblin King, seeing that he would have to spell it out for them, gave them the only answer their race had left. “We do not have a choice.” He lifted his chin to convey his confidence in the words that followed. “If we allow this to continue, we will be stripped of our customers entirely, our craft will be mocked as an unnecessarily dear purchase, and in a season their ledgers will show what they value most: profit, and the path of least resistance.”

The King let out a tired sigh. “Grey’s coin buys loyalty. When a people prefer cheaper metal and cheaper credit to the smith’s anvil, we have already lost.”

A murmur ran through the table, with one of the youthful clan heads even daring to protest, but the King cut him off with a single sentence that brooked no argument. “Better to strike while our vaults still have coin to fund the crusade than beg for mercy when our coffers are empty.”

The older goblin who had spoken earlier – the one with the scar – cleared his throat again and offered a different line, one that made several of the others shift in confusion and a slight unease. “Sire… if we must fight, let us fight in a way that breaks them faster. Let the Muggles see.” 

A slow, dangerous smile crossed the King’s face as the implication landed. He gestured for the goblin to continue. “If the non-magical learn their memories were altered, that the Statute of Secrecy has been a lie, they will demand answers. The Wizarding World will find itself forced to do two things at once: reply to the Muggle uproar and deal with our wounds. Their focus will be split. Panic will rule – politicians, parliaments, newspapers and the Muggle information technology. They will be forced to sign whatever treaty brings immediate stability to reduce losses.”

The table went still. To reveal magic to the Muggles was to play with fire, but in the King’s mind, the fire could be directed. He knew of the Muggle nuclear weapons and armament, courtesy of the Muggleborn staff Gringotts employed, but that didn't matter if their minds could be altered, and the Wizards would never kill so many of their own to get to them. They would ironically be protected by such dangerous weapons by the very people they were fighting against.

“We will not hurl magic across the seas like fools,” he said, having thought it through a little. “We will make certain witnessable events, like the serpent lord had planned for his own men. Attack a few villages here, destroy a bridge there, all the while making sure we are seen and forcing the Wizards to constantly deploy to the point they start making too many mistakes. The Muggle world will roar outrage, and the wizards will be forced to answer.” He allowed a feral smile to grace his features. “Then we truly strike.”

The heads leaned into practicalities now, sharpening the conversation into the cold engineering of war. Some of the plans were already similar to the ones that were set up by their predecessors and only needed adjustment, while others were created from scratch due to some new information they had gotten their hands on. Whether it was the forge, covert operations or information and propaganda – everything was considered.

It was toward the end of their meeting that a rather young head posed an obvious question with a small frown, while lightly pinching his chin in thought. “Why don't we just kill Grey?” Before an older head could bite his head off, like his features indicated, he quickly continued. “Not to prevent the upcoming war, or stop our plans in any way. Just to make sure a big player is off the board before we even need to do any heavy lifting. I mean, it is his bank after all… well, almost.”

The dead pan expression on the king's face told him how dumb he thought the question was, but he still graced him with an answer. “We have,” he said. “On multiple occasions."

The young Head's expression hardened. “The Dwarves.”

“The Dwarves?” The King snorted. “The Dwarves are formidable on the battlefield, yes, but they are not the problem in regard to assassinating the boy.” He shook his head as he looked off to the side, as if to remember a set of bad memories. "Every attempt has resulted in the absolute massacre of our men, and their dismembered remains were always mailed back to us in enchanted boxes.”

The young Goblin Head winced as a hush fell over the room. For a moment, no one spoke, but they understood what was left unsaid. Finally, the King tapped the table with a foreclaw. “Write the orders. Call the forges. Secure the lines and ready small, plausible actions near Muggle infrastructure. Send envoys to the enclaves. Let no one in this room speak of this beyond these walls.” A final, colder instruction followed. “And send word to our… allies in the underworld. If Grey thinks he will unmake us with his accidental discovery alone, his naivety will be his undoing.”

When the chamber emptied, the King remained, staring at the fallen spoon still glittering on the stone floor. His seething did not cease until he sought rest that evening, and even then, he would seeth in his unpleasant dreams.

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Hogwarts - Headmaster’s Office

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The fire crackled softly in the hearth of Dumbledore’s office, casting amber light across the shelves of instruments that whirred and ticked in restless motion. However, Grindelwald noticed that there were fewer than the pictures he had seen in the newspapers during his incarceration, courtesy of Lord Grey and the recent death of Riddle no doubt.

The faint clink of china punctuated the silence as Nagini set her teacup down, flicking her amber eyes between the two old men – one radiant in calm patience, and the other just… amused, for lack of a better term. Grindelwald, with an amused smile, flipped the folded newspaper between his fingers one last time before setting it on Dumbledore’s desk, ensuring that the headline was visible.

“VOLDEMORT DEAD: TRIALS CONCLUDE IN MASS SENTENCING – MINISTRY PROMISES REFORM”

“Reform,” Grindelwald echoed with a quiet scoff as he leaned back in his chair. “They call it reform when they let people like that pink toad walk free. ‘Misinterpreting orders,’ they said. The woman built her career on cruelty, Albus.” He took a slow, casual sip of tea. “In any other country I’ve dealt with lately, she’d have been tried twice – once by the courts and once by the mob.”

Dumbledore’s gaze stayed on the parchment spread across his desk with an unreadable expression. “Perhaps,” he murmured. “But the next election will likely remove that particular problem. Along with Fudge.”

Grindelwald gave a short, humorless laugh. “The British are sentimental about its incompetents. Out of all the underworlds I’ve cleaned up for Grey, magical Britain is the most… transparent. It doesn’t even pretend its corruption is subtle.”

Dumbledore frowned faintly but said nothing as he steepled his fingers under his chin. The silence stretched, until he finally spoke, slightly troubled. “My greater concern lies not with the Ministry’s ineptitude, but with their reaction to Lord Grey himself. There are already whispers – talks of restrictions, proposals to place limits on his influence and the powers he’s demonstrated.”

Nagini stiffened slightly, moving her gaze from Dumbledore to Grindelwald. “They’d try to control him? After what he’s done? Knowing what he's capable of doing?”

“They don't know half of what he's truly capable of,” Grindelwald chuckled darkly with a glint in his. “Then again, neither do we, and that's the frightening part.” He shrugged. “Regardless, let them try. It will be amusing to see how long they last.”

But Dumbledore didn’t share the amusement. His tone was calm, yet there was an edge to it. “It is not a question of their success, Gellert, and you know it. It is the damage they may do, or rather the irritation and the provocation. They do not understand what kind of power they are tempting. If they push too far, the boy will be forced to act.”

Grindelwald’s grin faded, replaced by a thoughtful frown. “And if he does act?”

Dumbledore looked up with the firelight reflecting off his half-moon spectacles. “Then Britain will frame it like he is the one in the wrong, and other countries may even believe it. They may try to aid their ally, Britain, under false information and draw the boy’s ire too. It may take much pain and suffering before they realise their mistake.”

Grindelwald let out a snort. “They literally love the boy more than they do their own leaders, and he's not even remained in another country for more than a week. They'd never turn on the boy. At least, unless he actually turned into a true Dark Lord.” He smirked. “Besides, I've personally been making sure the politicians play fair.”

The three sat in silence after that, until, after a long pause, Nagini reached again for her cup as she spoke. “He'll also have the school soon, so they won't be able to affect the young and poison their minds like they are currently attempting with Umbridge and Hogwarts.”

She hadn’t seen Dumbledore in decades, and their reunion had no doubt brought some memories of his brother’s child, Aurelius Dumbledore. But he had been cordial and tried to stay focused the entire time, after asking how she had been and making sure she was well.

Dumbledore shook his head lightly as he spoke, giving Grindelwald a look that let his old friend know he did something. “That attempt was foiled thanks to the votes of the Hogwarts board members, one of whom was Lady Malfoy on her husband's behalf, due to his recent disappearance.”

Grindelwald just gave him an innocent look that made him look anything but, which caused Dumbledore to shake his head in exasperation. 

“And where is Lord Grey now?” Dumbledore asked, absentmindedly brushing his fingers over the rim of his teacup. “I had expected at least a brief visit before his next… undertaking.”

Grindelwald smirked, folding his hands comfortably in his lap. “He’ll be gone for a few months. Said he’d return once the University of Magic is complete. He left the Flamels and myself to handle the groundwork.”

Dumbledore gave a thoughtful nod, though a faint crease deepened at his brow. “Do you know where he went?”

“Another dimension,” Grindelwald said simply, as if it were no stranger than a weekend trip. His grin widened as he added, “Though before he left, he promised me an heir, by blood might I add. You should ask him for one as well, Albus. It might do you some good.”

Dumbledore blinked, startled into stillness as his eyes grew distant behind his half-moon spectacles. He knew it was John's way of mitigating the chances of Grindelwald's scheming as Grindelwald himself employed such tactics during his rise, excluding the significantly superior healing magic. But, with a small, weary shake of his head, while willfully ignoring the mention of  a ‘dimension’, he murmured, “I do not believe I deserve such aid.”

Grindelwald’s eyes softened, just slightly. He leaned forward, elbows resting on his knees, and spoke gently. “You may have made mistakes, Albus. Perhaps not as grand as mine, but mistakes nonetheless. You’ve seen too much light and shadow to pretend you’re anything but human. But that doesn’t mean you don’t deserve legacy.”

He lifted his hand in a small, dismissive wave. “You’ve spent your life teaching other people’s children. Why should your own name end with you and your brother? Think of what you’ve learned – the knowledge, the restraint, the ideals. That’s not something to be buried. Passing it on is what honours your direct ancestors, not dying alone with your guilt.”

Dumbledore let out a slow sigh, sinking back into his chair. “You speak with the same conviction you once used to raise armies,” he said with a tired smile. “But… I will think on it.”

“Good,” Grindelwald replied simply, reaching for his cup again. “Reflection suits you better than martyrdom. Not that many would not fight in your name, should you pass.” He shrugged. “The benefits of being a good teacher, I suppose.”

Albus knew it to be true as well, and by the look on Grindelwald's features, he did too. Due to his age, it was one of the tactics he thought on, should Tom have risen further a second time. But, luckily, he wasn't pushed to employ the strategy.

Dumbledore’s gaze drifted to the window. “Tell me, Gellert… would your actions be the reason the goblins have been pressuring the Wizengamot?”

Grindelwald’s smirk returned as he set his teacup down, echoing a faint click through the room. Though his voice, when he spoke, was serious. “Nothing can be a threat to the Horde, Albus. You know that by now.” He shrugged. “All I've been doing is emptying the vaults of certain ‘upstanding members of society’ who were secretly funding slavery – mostly of the sexual nature, rape, and, believe it or not, the hunting and murder of muggles.”

A wizard who fought for supremacy over Muggles for years, now fighting those who think the same. The irony was not lost on either of the three in the room, with even Nagini giving him a side eye before going back to her tea. But none commented on it.

While shaking his head to get himself back on track, Dumbledore lightly cleared his throat. “I believe they are preparing for war.”

“Of course they are,” Grindlewald snorted while shaking his head, almost in what Nagini knew was exasperation, having been on a few trips with him, trying to verify the information they were getting. “They’re calling in debts, Albus. Ancient ones. And they’re doing it quietly – too quietly. Whatever they’re building beneath Gringotts… it’s not a vault. But we always knew they were going to start another rebellion," he shrugged. “It's what they do. Fight, and if they lose, bide their time, then fight again until they reign supreme. They're just doing it earlier than expected due to the clear signs they will lose.”

Dumbledore let out a soft hum as he caressed his beard in thought. “‘One last hurrah’, as they say. Primarily to mitigate total loss and have a new treaty signed – nothing they have not been subtly asking to be done already but they seem to be becoming more… verbally forceful, to prevent young Grey from creating ‘their’ metals, among other things.”

Grindelwald lazily lifted his hand and levitated a book off one of the small bookshelves as he spoke. “Precisely,” he tilted his head, indicating he had never read the book in his hand. “Words won’t stop the upcoming war. But I've put several plans in place that would have the Muggles see us as the heroes who risked their lives against the animals.”

Dumbledore raised a brow, ignoring the insult at the declining bankers. “Plans you say?”

The smile that made its way onto Grindelwald’s face seemed to take Dumbledore and the silent Nagini back to the events in Paris over half a century ago. And the two could only sigh in resignation as the former Dark Lord started explaining his tactics, hoping Grey was not doing something else that required anything close to Grindelwald's planning while he was away.

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Star Wars Universe - Location Classified

Johnathan Grey

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After weeks of structuring the [Essence of Home] dimension and getting it ready for the Elves and sorcerers, when Ciri's father decided to further act on his growing hunger for power, I got bored and decided to make a visit to the Star Wars universe. Thanks to my world tour, I was able to apply what I saw and felt of the different cities’ infrastructure and mass-apply only the best parts while using the dimension's ability.

As for the parts of the world I wasn't able to visit, I just left them as they were, with jungle, plant life and wild animals running around. I only got the UK one hundred percent ready, and I will get around to them at some point. But, it wasn't like I would be using anywhere other than the replica of the place for now anyway.

I was primarily in this verse to get some more equipment for my cloning facility, and for cloning Grindelwald, as I didn't want to use my points to purchase them from the [System]. The plan was simple: go to Kamino and take their stuff without leaving any proof it was me. Naturally, I have proof of some shady dealing and wouldn't mind taking the planet for the Horde if they made a fuss. Not that they could prove anything.

As for the reason I had an unconscious Zabrak in a lightly humming enchanted containment field? Well, that was just Darth Maul. The sith assassin was easily found by Cortana as he tried to make his way onto the planet, thanks to having more than enough time to adapt to the technology of the verse. It also helped that she had already hacked the Sith frequency from Curoscant. All Cortana had to do was hack the ship, guide it to a room, put holes in the ship and flood it with knockout gas.

An added benefit would be the use of [A Firm Handshake] while he was unconscious.

[Zabrak Physiology (Star Wars) Obtained - The physiology of a Species with 2 hearts which allows for better blood circulation, resulting in increased base stamina, endurance and speed. Horns not applied due to the version of A Firm Handshake used.]

The moment the tattooed assassin regained consciousness, his first instinct was to start clawing uselessly at the invisible bindings that held him immobile, leaving me to just watch and wait as he came to terms with his situation. I could feel his use of the Force, trying to get as much information he could, but there would be little for him to find. I made sure of it. 

“Why?” Maul’s yellow eyes narrowed as he rasped the word, “I sought an alliance.”

Sitting across from him with a bored expression and tablet in hand, or holodpad as the verse would call them, I gave the furious Zabrack an answer I knew full well would piss him off. “I’ll keep this simple. I know of Sidious. You will work for me… or you will die today.”

The Sith’s snarl was instant, as on instinct as his pride flared. “You know of Sidious,” he repeated, surprised at the mention of the name. “If you truly know of that name, then you know his work. I will never kneel.”

I thought not at first, it was either kneel and be caught by his master and tortured until death, or just straight up death through me.

I just shrugged my shoulders. “The Sith may not be trustworthy partners, but they are useful and potentially competent. So I'll give you another chance. Submit or be removed.”

“You should see the benefit of joining us,” Maul rasped. “Sidious commands the shadows between governments. Together, our reach… imagine the order we could force upon the galaxy. You would have ships, legions, no Jedi to plague you. Complete freedom.”

“I have no interest in sharing a throne with men constantly trying to stab me in the back,” I snorted. “You and your master are either useful tools or liabilities. I prefer usefulness. So… work for me. Serve my aims under my command.”

Having stalled enough, Maul’s hands went still for a heartbeat before pushing outward with the Force, only for the enchantments I had in place to prevent any damage. Furious, he tried a second time, receiving the same result.

“You should know, I've added some contingencies,” I watched as Anti-Venom formed around his body before violent tremors racked the Sith’s body. “While you slept. A living suit of armour was put into your body, keyed to your neural signature. Move against me, and it triggers.”

I continued  watching as Maul curved inward on himself as it continuously triggered his nerves, only for him to bare his teeth as spittle flew from his mouth. He tried to force out words, threats and curses, probably. The attempt brought only a thin tremor across his face as his muscles spasmed. Anti-venom once again at work, showing him that, unlike Sidious who could only sense the emotions that leaked into the Force, I could actively hurt him no matter how well he tried to hide betrayal or disobedience.

“You can die today. Or you can be useful. You know Sidious, his patterns, the way he ghosts his movements. I want information, and then I want a tool. You can give it to me willingly, in exchange, I will give you time, and a purpose that will let you survive to taste revenge. Or you can deny me both, and I can deny your continued survival.” 

It would be a test. If he held anything back with the information he provided in any way, he’d die. Though he probably figured that out already. Naturally, I knew if there was one person Maul hated the most, it was Sidious. Years of torture would do that.

Maul’s answer came as a dry hiss as his breath came in ragged pulls. “I will speak. I will serve. And you will give me the opportunity as an instrument to end him.” He nodded. “What is your will, my–” He seemed to struggle but forced himself to say the last word. “-master.”

“You’ll call me Emperor,” I corrected with a slight tilt of my head, letting my presence in the force be felt, knowing full well Sidious and the Jedi would feel it all the way from Curoscant. “Or any other title that fits my official title. I don't do the whole master thing.”

Maul bowed his head, wide eyed at what he could feel in the Force. Even feeling glad he was even given the choice to join me. “Emperor.”

“Good,” I tapped a finger against the arm of my chair, thinking aloud. “Write me a full dossier. Every safehouse. Every back-channel. Every ritual, every mark, every name you and Sidious keep. I want the grand plan in ink. I want timelines, couriers, and the small things, like who trusts who, who carries what in which manifests, and so on."

Maul’s teeth flashed as he gave me a feral smile which would only serve to terrify lesser men. “You will have it.”

I made a show of waving a hand, deactivating the containment field, allowing Maul to relax just enough to feel the blood return to his muscles. “One more thing,” I said, rising to my feet. “I will need an unbreakable vow.”

Maul dropped to one knee onto the floor. “I vow to do as you bid, emperor–” he began automatically.

“Not that kind of vow.” I interrupted, waving him off. Maul blinked in confusion while I walked to the door, opening it as I looked back over my shoulder. “We’ll need a witness.” I waved for him to follow. “Come on.”

[Defeat Dart Maul and force him into servitude for the good of others: +125,000 SP]

Huh, I was wondering when that would show up. I guess the system was waiting to see if I would kill him. Now I'm wondering if I would have earned more if I did.

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“ You may think I am evil. I am not. I am efficient. ”

— Darth Maul.

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Hello There

More of a setup for the storyline the Potterverse will be following but I thought it was needed. Also, he got Maul… yeah, that Maul. He's lucky he still has the other half of his body.

Longer chapter for this fic than usual, but I thought it was only fair with my now fewer upload schedule.

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Disclaimer: Sadly, I own nothing except original characters and ideas. All credit goes to their respective owners.

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