Magic, Curses and Gods Amongst Men || HP x JJK

Grindelwald stood in his quarters at Nuremberg Castle, looking out of the large window to the mountain range in the distance. The snow-capped peaks were a stark contrast to the dark thoughts swirling in his mind. The room was quiet, the only sound the crackling of the fire in the hearth. Behind him, sitting at the table, was his ward, Lyra Black. She had long been studying under the Dark Lord, an honour that few could say to have.

"Lyra," Grindelwald began without turning from the window, "tell me about the Imperius Curse?"

Lyra hesitated for a moment, choosing her words carefully. "The Imperius Curse is best used when you need to control someone without their knowledge. It can be effective for infiltration or manipulation."

Grindelwald turned to face her, a small, approving smile on his lips. "True, but not entirely correct. The Imperius Curse is useful when you need absolute obedience. In theory, it sounds simple—control someone's mind and actions. But in reality, it is a risky spell to use if your target is able to shake off its effects, any plans, anything they heard while under its effects now becomes information that the enemy can use."

Lyra nodded, absorbing his words. Grindelwald moved closer to the table, his gaze intense. "Now, what about the Cruciatus Curse? When would you use it?"

"The Cruciatus Curse is used to inflict pain. It's effective for interrogation or punishment," Lyra answered confidently.

Grindelwald's expression hardened slightly. "Yes, but it's more than that. The Cruciatus Curse is a tool of fear. It's not just about the pain inflicted; it's about the psychological torment. When used correctly, it can break a person's spirit just by merely mentioning it. But again, theory and reality differ. It's one thing to cast the spell in practice, another to use it on a living being, to watch them suffer. To be the one to want them to suffer, That takes a different kind of strength."

He paused, letting his words sink in. "Now, tell me about the Killing Curse."

Lyra took a deep breath. "The Killing Curse, Avada Kedavra, is used to instantly kill the target. There is no counter-curse, no way to block it."

Grindelwald nodded slowly. "Correct.  The Killing Curse is the simplest of the Unforgivable Curses in theory. It requires intent, and sheer will to kill. In reality, it demands absolute resolve. A moment's hesitation, a flicker of doubt, and the spell fails. The theory doesn't prepare you for the weight of taking a life."

He leaned over the table, his eyes boring into hers. "Magic is about control, Lyra. The spells themselves are tools, but it's the intent, the understanding, that gives them power. Dark magic, especially, is not just about knowing the incantations and wand movements. It's about mastering the will to use them effectively."

"Do you understand," Grindelwald asked as he placed his arms across the table. Lyra felt his intense gaze bore into her and she felt her pulse quicken, it was very easy to forget that the man before her was one of the most powerful wizards in the world, but when he was serious it became all too clear.

"Yes Sir," Lyra replied taking a breath after what seemed like minutes of holding it. Grindelwald nodded and moved back from the table heading towards a man who had been wiggling on the floor. He had been there the entire lesson but Lyra had ignored him as it was not her place to question Lord Grindelwald.

Grindelwald drew his wand and flicked it towards the man wiggling on the floor, cancelling the Silencing Charm. Instantly, the man's screams filled the room, his desperation echoing off the stone walls. Lyra had felt uneasy about the man ever since she entered the room and began her lessons.

"Please, let me go," the man begged, his French accent evident. His eyes were wide with fear as he looked up at Grindelwald.

Grindelwald turned to Lyra, a cold smile on his lips. "This man is Jacques Duval, the head of the Bureau des Aurors. The French Aurors. He has been quite ruthless in hunting down our forces and imploring members of the International Confederation of Wizards to do the same."

Lyra's gaze flickered to Duval, her unease growing.

"He is an enemy, Lyra," Grindelwald said, his tone instructive. "And what do we do to enemies?"

"We ensure they no longer pose a threat to our rule," Lyra responded, her voice steady despite the turmoil inside her.

"How?" Grindelwald asked, his eyes piercing into hers.

"By any means necessary," Lyra said resolutely.

Grindelwald's smile widened. He waved his wand, forcing Duval to his knees. "Kill him," he said abruptly.

Both Lyra and Duval looked shocked. Lyra had killed before, but never in this manner. She had never been asked to execute someone. "Yes, my Lord," she said, her voice wavering slightly. She stood up, drawing her wand and pointing it at Duval. A piercing curse was at the tip of her wand, aimed straight for his chest.

Grindelwald tutted. "Use the Killing Curse," he instructed.

Lyra paused, frowning. She couldn't defy her Lord. The Killing Curse was simple to use; you summoned the hate and intent needed and then spoke the incantation. However, as Grindelwald had said, this was easier said than done. The fear in Duval's eyes, the tears streaming down his face, and his pleas for mercy shook her resolve.

Her breathing quickened, and her thoughts became scattered. Her arm started to shake.

"Do it," Grindelwald commanded, his voice cold and unyielding.

"Avada Kedavra," she spoke, the sickly green spell leaving her wand. It impacted Duval and splashed against him harmlessly.

Lyra felt her magic drain an incredible amount, but seeing that it had no effect made her grip her wand tighter, to the point it looked like it might snap. "I'm sorry, my lord," she said, her voice trembling.

"Do not worry, Lyra. I did not expect you to be able to use the spell," Grindelwald said. "Now go and practice. Monsieur Duval and I have some things we need to discuss."

Lyra nodded, bowing slightly before leaving the room. As the door closed behind her, Grindelwald sat down opposite Duval, tapping his wand against his palm.

"You've advocated for a full-scale conflict for many years," Grindelwald said, addressing him directly.

Duval breathed heavily. "The minister thinks the losses that would be incurred killing you are not worth it... none of them do. Without Monsieur Dumbledore, they are content to let you stay in your fortress and have small skirmishes along the border."

"But I know the truth. I know your ambitions have not died, and you've been building an army. I only wish Monsieur Delacour would've listened to me," Duval continued, his voice filled with regret.

Grindelwald smiled at him. "Do not worry. You will have your wish. War is coming, and this time Dumbledore will not be here to save you."

He leaned closer to Duval, his voice softening to a whisper. "Now I need you to do something for me." He raised his wand and cast, "Imperio."

Duval's eyes glazed over, and his body relaxed under the spell's control. Grindelwald whispered instructions into his ear. Duval nodded slowly, his expression blank. "Yes, my Lord," he said, his voice monotone.

Grindelwald cut the bindings with a flick of his wand, and Duval stood up, turning to leave the room.

As Duval walked out, Grindelwald turned back to the window, his eyes narrowing at the horizon. "A new world is coming, Albus. I hope you will join me in it," he said softly to himself.

———————————————————-

Harry and Miguel sprinted down the dimly lit tunnels, their footsteps echoing off the stone walls. The urgency was palpable, their breaths coming in quick, shallow gasps as they raced to reach Ciri and Yennefer before anyone else did. The flickering torchlight barely illuminated their path, casting long shadows that seemed to follow them.

Miguel glanced sideways at Harry, his curiosity evident. "What's so special about these two?" he asked, trying to keep pace.

Harry didn't respond immediately, his focus fixed on the path ahead. His mind was racing, but he kept his eyes forward, his thoughts on Ciri and Yennefer. After a moment, he replied, "I don't know."

Miguel laughed, though it was short and breathless. "I suppose no reason is as good a reason as any," he said, just as they turned a corner.

Three men blocked their path, looking rough and ready for a fight. Harry didn't slow down. He charged ahead, his movements fluid and precise.

The first man swung a knife at him. Harry grabbed the man's wrist, twisting it sharply to the side, and then drove his elbow into the man's face. Blood spurted from the man's nose, and he fell backwards with a cry of pain. Harry followed up with a swift kick to the side of the man's head, knocking him out cold.

The second man lunged with a club. Harry ducked under the swing and drove his fist into the man's gut, doubling him over. He followed up with a knee to the man's face, sending teeth flying and leaving a bloody mess.

The third man tried to grab Harry from behind, but Miguel was on him. Miguel swung a powerful punch to the man's jaw, the impact sending him reeling. He then grabbed the man's head and slammed it into the wall, leaving a crimson smear as the man collapsed.

Harry and Miguel stood over the fallen bodies, breathing heavily. "Let's go," Harry said coldly. They continued running, leaving the bloody scene behind.

As they ran, Miguel asked another question. "What happened to you in the arena when you fought the wolf man?"

Harry sighed, his breath hitching slightly. "I don't know," he replied honestly. "I remember a voice and being shown something, but the more I try to think on it, the blurrier it gets."

"You did go mad for a moment, my friend," Miguel said with a chuckle. "Talking about being the strongest. Very good trash talk."

"It wasn't trash talk," Harry said, not elaborating further. Another group of attackers appeared, and Harry didn't hesitate. He launched a series of quick punches at the first attacker, hitting him in the nose and jaw, breaking his nose and disorienting him. Harry followed up with a swift kick to the man's chest, sending him crashing into the wall.

Miguel tackled another attacker to the ground, delivering a barrage of punches to the man's face, each blow splattering blood. The man tried to struggle, but Miguel's relentless assault left him unconscious.

A third attacker came at Harry with a makeshift spear. Harry sidestepped the thrust and grabbed the wooden spear, yanking it out of the man's hands. He drove the spear into the man's stomach, pulling it out with a spray of blood. The man crumpled to the ground, clutching his wound.

They pressed on, their path littered with the bodies of those who had tried to stop them. Another group tried to ambush them. Harry kicked one in the knee, shattering the joint, then punched another in the face, the impact breaking the man's jaw.

Miguel used a broken pipe to bash another attacker's head, blood and brain matter splattering everywhere. "Why are there so many of them?" Miguel muttered as they kept running.

"They're desperate," Harry said as they ran. "If we weren't friends, would you hesitate to deliver me to the Templars?"

Miguel chuckled, ignoring Harry's blank expression. "Ah, so we are friends then," he said with a wide smile. "I see your point, friend. Any chance to get out of here, I'd probably take."

They reached the small tunnel that led to Ciri and Yennefer. Miguel stopped, assessing the narrow entrance. "I'm too big to fit through here. I'll keep watch," he said.

Harry nodded and squeezed into the tunnel, crawling quickly towards the small cavern where he had left the girls. As he emerged, Ciri ran to him, wrapping her arms around his waist tightly.

"Harry! You came back!" she exclaimed, her voice filled with relief.

A small smile made its way onto Harry's face, but it soon disappeared. "We need to leave, Ciri," he said gently.

"Why? What's happening?" Ciri asked, her young voice trembling with worry.

"Everything is fine. We're just going somewhere safer," Harry said, trying to comfort her. He walked over to Yennefer, who was still pale and malnourished, her breaths shallow.

Harry's mind raced as he considered whether he could move her, but he quickly realized he had no choice. He grabbed the rags they used as blankets and gently moved Yennefer onto them. She moaned in pain as he did, her eyes fluttering but not focusing.

Ciri was worried and tried to comfort Yennefer, but Yennefer was delirious and didn't recognize him. "It's okay, Yennefer, you'll be safe soon," Harry said softly, backing up through the tunnel and dragging Yennefer on the makeshift stretcher. When Harry emerged back into the main tunnel, he saw Miguel fighting off four attackers and losing. Miguel was grappling with one, trying to fend off blows from the others. Harry's eyes narrowed, and he rushed into the fray.

Harry tackled one of the attackers, driving his shoulder into the man's midsection and knocking him to the ground. He followed up with a vicious punch to the man's face, breaking his nose with a sickening crunch.

Another attacker swung a metal pipe at Harry. Harry ducked under the swing and landed a powerful elbow strike to the man's throat, causing him to gag and stumble back. Harry didn't let up; he grabbed the man's head and smashed it against the tunnel wall, leaving a bloody smear.

Miguel was struggling with two attackers. One had him in a chokehold while the other pounded his ribs. Harry kicked the one punching Miguel, causing him to double over in pain. He then grabbed the one choking Miguel by the hair and yanked him backwards, delivering a knee to the man's face and shattering his teeth.

The last attacker charged at Harry with a knife. Harry sidestepped and caught the man's wrist, twisting it until the knife dropped. He then delivered a series of rapid punches to the man's torso and face, each blow sending splatters of blood. The man fell to the ground, groaning in pain.

Harry breathed heavily, surveying the bloody scene. "Miguel, carry Yennefer and Ciri," he said, his voice steady.

Miguel, panting and clutching his side, nodded. "Come on, little one," he said to Ciri, crouching down. "Hop on."

Ciri hesitated for a moment before climbing onto Miguel's back. Miguel gently picked up Yennefer, careful not to jostle her too much. Harry and Miguel rushed back through the dark, winding tunnels with Ciri on Miguel's back and Yennefer cradled in his arms. They needed to get back quickly, more and more people would soon be looking for him, and the fighting was bound to draw attention, they were not in a good position.

As they turned a corner, they found themselves facing a long tunnel crowded with people. The menacing glares and smirks told Harry these were not friends, but enemies likely searching for him.

"This is not looking good, my friend," Miguel said from behind Harry, his voice laced with worry.

"Keep moving as fast as you can. Don't stop for anything," Harry replied in a low, firm voice as he pulled his blindfold down to his neck, revealing his glowing eyes.

The other prisoners started laughing and smirking at the sight of Harry's glowing eyes, underestimating him.

"Let's go," Harry said to Miguel, and they both ran forward, bracing for the inevitable confrontation.

The first attacker lunged at Harry with a crude knife. Harry saw the move coming a mile away, sidestepping swiftly and delivering a powerful front kick to the man's chest. The impact sent the attacker crashing into the tunnel wall, gasping for air. Harry didn't wait for him to recover. He grabbed a loose rock from the ground and hurled it without looking, striking another prisoner in the face and knocking him out cold.

Miguel watched in awe as Harry moved with deadly precision. Another man charged at Miguel, but Harry intercepted him, using a spinning back kick that landed squarely on the man's jaw. The force of the kick sent the man sprawling to the ground, unconscious before he hit the floor.

Three more attackers rushed at them simultaneously. Harry reacted instantly, ducking under a wild punch and grabbing the attacker's arm. Using the man's momentum, Harry flipped him over his shoulder, slamming him into the ground. Before the man could react, Harry delivered a brutal elbow to his throat, cutting off his air supply.

Miguel kept moving, Ciri clinging tightly to his back. A prisoner tried to grab Miguel's arm, but Harry saw the move coming. He leapt off the wall, using the cave's rough surface to propel himself. He delivered a flying knee to the assailant's face, breaking his nose and sending blood splattering everywhere. The next attacker was smarter, wielding a makeshift club. Harry dodged the initial swing and closed the distance, delivering a rapid series of punches to the man's ribs. He followed up with a precise kick to the knee, making the man buckle and drop the club. Harry then grabbed the man's head and smashed it against the tunnel wall, leaving a bloody smear.

Miguel struggled to keep up. "Damn, Harry, you're a machine," he muttered.

Harry didn't reply, his focus entirely on the fight. Another prisoner aimed a punch at Miguel's head, but Harry intercepted it, using a shoulder throw to send the man crashing into two others, creating a tangled mess of limbs on the ground. Harry's Six Eyes allowed him to anticipate attacks before they happened. He ducked under a high kick and responded with a low sweep, taking the attacker's legs out from under him. As the man fell, Harry jumped, delivering a brutal axe kick to his chest, cracking ribs.

Miguel watched as Harry seamlessly transitioned from one opponent to the next. He used the environment to his advantage, bouncing off walls and using them to gain momentum for his attacks. He grabbed another attacker by the neck, using the momentum to swing him around and into another group of prisoners, sending them all to the ground in a heap. One attacker managed to land a punch on his side, making him grunt in pain. Harry retaliated with a vicious knee to the man's groin, followed by an uppercut that sent teeth flying.

They finally broke through the crowd, leaving a trail of battered and broken bodies behind them. Though these men wouldn't easily give up, some had been here for years and years, and an opportunity to escape was something they'd give their lives for. Harry, Miguel, and the others finally reached the entrance to their area. Yuki stood at the entrance, arms crossed, her expression one of sheer impatience.

"I hope it was worth it," she commented, her tone dripping with sarcasm.

"It was," Harry replied instantly, his eyes hard.

Yuki glanced at the two girls on Miguel and chuckled. "Go on, get back to Yaga," she said, nodding toward the corridor leading to their safe area.

"What about you?" Harry asked, concern etched in his features.

"Someone has to stop these cretins from following you," Yuki replied, gesturing down the corridor where a group of prisoners was closing in.

"I'll do it," Harry said, stepping forward. It was his fault, so he'd take responsibility.

Yuki shook her head, her gaze unyielding. "You are our ticket out of here. Listen to Yaga and get us all out of this shithole," she said, grabbing him and pushing him behind her.

Harry felt conflicted but knew Yuki could handle herself better than he could. He relented, following Miguel and the others.

Yuki stood there, a grin slowly spreading across her face. She cracked her neck before stretching her limbs. "Alright, boys, let's go," she said, her voice dripping with lethal intent.

The first man approached her with a crude knife. Yuki moved with lightning speed, catching his wrist mid-air and twisting it until the bone jutted out through the skin. The man's scream filled the tunnel, but Yuki silenced him by driving her knee into his groin, lifting him off the ground. She then tore the knife from his hand and slashed his throat, blood spraying in an arc as he collapsed, gurgling his last breath.

A second attacker, larger and wielding a broken pipe, swung at her. Yuki ducked under the swing and rammed her fist into his ribs, feeling them crack under the impact. She followed up with a brutal headbutt that split his forehead open, blood pouring down his face. Before he could recover, she grabbed his head and smashed it into the stone wall repeatedly until his skull was a shattered mess of bone and brain matter.

A third man tried to tackle her, but she sidestepped his charge and drove her elbow into the back of his neck, paralyzing him instantly. As he fell to the ground, she stomped on his spine, crushing his vertebrae and leaving him in a twitching, broken heap. The remaining attackers hesitated, fear flickering in their eyes as they watched Yuki's gruesome display.

"Who's next?" Yuki taunted, her voice a dangerous growl.

———————————————————-

Jacques Duval, the head of the Bureau des Aurors, staggered into the French Ministry of Magic, his robes tattered and stained with blood from his recent ordeal with Grindelwald. His eyes were vacant, and his steps were mechanical as if he were moving through a trance. The bustling ministry came to a standstill as everyone turned to stare at the dishevelled figure. Aurors approached him, their expressions a mix of concern and confusion, but Jacques ignored them, his gaze fixed ahead. The commotion reached the ears of the French Minister of Magic, Louis Delacour, who promptly descended from his office to the main hall. His eyes widened in shock at the sight of Jacques.

"Jacques, what happened to you?" Delacour demanded, trying to snap him out of his trance. "Get a hold of yourself!"

Jacques ignored the minister's words, his expression remaining eerily blank. He stopped in the centre of the hall, his voice rising in a fervent, almost manic speech. "We have lived in the shadows for too long, hiding our greatness from the world! Wizards are superior to non-magics, yet we cower, afraid to embrace our destiny!"

A murmur spread through the crowd, a mix of disbelief and fear. Delacour stepped forward, trying to reach Jacques. "Jacques, stop this madness. What has happened to you?"

Jacques' eyes flickered with a brief moment of clarity before filling with fervent zeal once more. "Lord Grindelwald is no longer content to hide. He is reborn, and he will lead us to greatness! This is a declaration of war!"

Before anyone could react, Jacques drew his wand, his hand shaking. "Fiendfyre!" he shouted, his voice echoing through the hall.

A torrent of cursed fire erupted from his wand, roaring to life with a monstrous ferocity. The flames twisted and writhed, taking the shapes of beasts that snarled and snapped as they surged forward. The Fiendfyre rapidly consumed everything in its path, engulfing desks, walls, and people alike. Screams filled the air as the inferno spread uncontrollably. Minister Delacour acted swiftly, raising his wand and casting a powerful shield spell. A shimmering barrier formed, protecting the terrified ministry workers as they scrambled to escape.

"Get out, now!" Delacour shouted, his voice commanding even over the roar of the flames. He held the shield as long as he could, buying precious moments for his people to flee. Jacques stood at the centre of the chaos, his eyes wide with a twisted mix of triumph and terror. The Fiendfyre, uncontrollable and insatiable, turned on its caster. Jacques' screams joined the cacophony as the fire engulfed him, his body consumed by the very spell he had unleashed.

The inferno continued to rage, the ancient stone walls of the ministry groaning under the intense heat. With a final, deafening roar, the building exploded, sending debris and fire raining down on the surrounding area.

War had been declared and would soon engulf Europe in a darkness not seen for near forty years.

(AN: The escape shall be occurring next chapter as well as Harry's animagus form. One thing I should let you know is that the time inside and out of the pit isn't synced, the stuff happening with Grindelwald and stuff is happening before Harry enters. Just in case you're confused later on. Anyway I hope you enjoyed the chapter.)

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