Summary: AU (FemHP)Grindelwald won the duel that shaped the world. From the shadows of his Dark Empire an orphan rises to tip the scales for no one can deny the power swirling behind those emerald green eyes. And so begins a ruthless game of politics and intrigue, magic and betrayal, where the weapons are hate and love - and the prize could be terrible beyond imagining.

Warnings: I have a warped mind and I am afraid it will start to show. Whilst I was reading Laurell K Hamilton and Stephen King at the age of 16 my view on what is appropriate is a little skewed. As a warning, expect violence, swearing, dark magic and the bloody reality of war. Any relationships that may or may not develop won't be for years to come and will be noted about then.

Notes: Okay, this is the first chapter of what will be, I hope, a long and complicated retelling of a female Harry's youth in an alternative world, sorry for those who don't like female Harry's, but this story is one of them. There will be events, places, and people familiar from canon but I'm not going to be following the storyline, this story will be heavily AU.

I have always enjoyed stories that either follow the what if's scenarios or use a female Harry and do something different with it. This is my attempt at writing just that. This story will be dark, mature and depending on your view point boarder horror and much, much more again if this is something you don't like please do not read, and though it may start of slow the further along the story is written the darker it gets.

A/N 2: I have re-edited all chapters, changed what needed to be change and revamped and refreshed the story a little. 15.01.2017

Any mistake that is made is mine solely and I hope that they were few and far between. If mistakes are obvious and are happening regularly by all means let me know and I will correct them.

Disclaimer: The recognisable people, places, events, and spells in this story do not belong to me, but to J. K. Rowling. I'm not making a profit off this story involving them, nor claiming ownership of them.

X

Prologue: - A Butterfly Flaps its Wings

A butterfly flaps its wings somewhere and the wind changes, and a warm front hits a

Cold front off the coast of western Africa and

Before you know it you've got a hurricane closing in.

By the time anyone figured out the storm was coming, it was too late

To do anything but batten down the hatches and exercise damage control.

Karen Marie Moning – Darkfever

Deep in the heart of the Steinernes Meer plateau, so rightly named Rocky Sea, hidden under layers of powerful wards carefully woven together, stood a single massive Black Tower, only shadowed by the Großer Hundstod Mountain towering above it, as the rest of fortress melded into its foundations. It was only on close inspection that one could see where one began and the other ended.

Born below the snow-capped peaks, a wind rose snapping at the peaks before blowing west until it reached the fortress. A lone wizard stood on the balcony at the highest part of the tower. Gusts of wind plastering his cloak to his back, whipping the black coloured silks around his legs and then streaming it out behind him.

It was here that he came to think.

It was here the ravens came, after a long flight. Their droppings speckled the gargoyles that rose twelve feet tall on either side of him, a hellhound and a wyvern, two of the thousand that brooded over the walls of the fortress, just one of the many defences he had placed that guarded the black walls.

He had built the fortress himself. Brick by brick, enchantment after enchantment until the very air and ground lay so thick with magic that one felt as though they were bathing in its presences just by being within the halls. He knew every crook and cranny, every hidden passage and chamber, every secret that both it and the mountain he had built it into held.

Though the motto etched on the entrance gateway of the tower, 'For the Greater Good', was already widely known throughout the wizarding world; sometimes fully advocated and supported, other times murmured with wariness and dread.

The end result had exceeded his expectations.

So much so that he had not only made it his prison where his enemies were kept, but he had also made it his base of operations. The heart and centre of his Empire.

The Dark Lord Gellert Grindelwald gazed out beyond the outer wall, beyond the shoreline of the reservoir that supplied the fortress its water. He could see other peaks in the distance, but as much as they made a beautiful sight, they weren't what held his attention. On the horizon, he could see the defined shape of nine Ju 290 aircraft slowly making their way towards München.

A small smile crept across his lips.

Everything was falling into place.

His puppets that led the Third Reich following his advice to the letter meant that his plans were slowly coming together; all the while they thought that every move they made was by their own thought. The cargo that the Ju 290's carried would land in München in just under an hour, where his men were ready and waiting to collect and bring it to him. Who would have thought using Muggles to achieve my goals could be so liberating.

The armies of the Third Reich were a crucial part of his success, using them to bring the muggle world to its knees before he disposed of them and took his rightful place. He and in turn magic would be met with little resistance when they were already on their knees.

He turned from the window, his curly blonde locks only just starting to show signs of grey, touched his shoulders having escaped its loose braid as he paced his office. Impatiently waiting for his guards to bring him his most prominent prisoner, who had been 'softened' by a one-month stint in Nurmengard's underground dungeons.

His aged gaze wandered about his private office, his blue eyes hazed with thought, tattered wall hangings, once battle banners of the enemies of his youth faded into dark wood panelling laid over stone walls, thick even here at the highest level of his tower. Clustered with countless books a variety of magical and muggle topics alike, added to his personal library and collection over the years consisting of only the most unique Dark Arts texts, with numerous magical artefacts scattered among shelves, and detailed maps of Europe, the North of Africa, the Middle East and Asia.

It was the maps though that held his attention.

Maps of Europe.

Stretched across tables, they revealed his plans for the war.

Figurines, much like wizard's chess, represented troops, divisions of tanks and artillery, and even squadrons of battle-airplanes. Magically drawn lines represented battle fronts and trenches. They moved as their real life counterpart moved, showing both successes and losses. Victories and defeats, so that his strategies for the muggle war were executed precisely in time with his tactics for the wizarding war.

For every action, the reaction was visible for him to see. Right down to the exact number of forces in each location. He even knew how many were magical and how many were muggle.

The war!

It had reached its peak.

Years of careful planning, finally coming together.

Almost ten years of working with the Third Reich.

And almost six of open war.

Most of Muggle Europe was under his sway.

The Wizarding World was slowly following suit as they caved to his power.

For such purpose superimposed on the map of muggle Europe, Grindelwald liked to place his map of Wizarding Europe. Ministries of Magic or similar governmental facilities glowed different colours to mark their location, depending on the country depended on the colour and the size of the mark, and with notations of the magic to be used, the negotiations to be held, and the names of leaders to either kill, imprison or persuade.

He left nothing to chance. Every possible scenario accounted for, every situation having more than one outcome and more than one solution.

There was only one obstacle that remained.

One obstacle he had yet to conquer and yet should he, he knew would change the very course of the war.

Albus Dumbledore.

The most powerful light wizard in the world. The coming and goings of Albus had always amused him over the years. Secretly attempting to form alliances for the British Ministry of Magic in an unofficial capacity.

Being the only one who had the foresight and depth of understanding to know some of what Grindelwald had planned he had expected it.

But never once did the wizard confront him directly.

For the same reason that he had left England and his quest for the two remaining Deathly Hallows till last.

But now the time was upon them.

The day of reckoning.

He knew, as did Albus undoubtedly did.

Soon they would face each other on the battlefield.

There was no denying it.

But while he couldn't deny the inevitable it didn't mean he had to be ill prepared.

There was only one person who held the answers that he sought.

A fool proof way to ensure his victory against the man.

In strength and skill, they matched. And while their directions of magic had drastically changed over the years since their separation he was confident that even so, he was the stronger of the two in duelling. He had watched and listened over the years at his old friend's achievements.

Discovering the twelve uses of dragon's blood. He snorted at the thought.

So much talent, so much potential wasted. Instead of standing by his side as they had dreamed of so many years ago, to create a better world.

A new era for those with magic where they no longer had to cower in fear or risk of discovery, but stood tall and proud free to practice magic as they willed it, as they had done so once before so long ago. The world they had both wanted; to rule the wizarding world united under one banner.

Instead, he had opted to teach future generations. To restrict himself to the limits of others. To turn his back on the power he wielded and all he could have achieved with it. He had put the shackles on himself, and that was something Gellert would never understand. But most of all he would never forgive him for turning his back on him and their dreams.

No, the mind of his old friend was one he was unable to fathom, he never had been able to if he was going, to be honest with himself.

Gellert sighed; it was no good dwelling on the past. Albus had closed the door firmly shut himself, and there was nothing he could do about it. It was better really that he was on his own accomplishing this dream. He never really had been able to play well with others. No, far better that it was he alone that united the wizarding world under one banner, that he alone brought the muggles to their knees and gave freedom to magic.

It was far better that he ruled alone.

His musings were abruptly cut short when the door of his office opened, and two guards stepped inside, dragging a witch by her arms, brusquely dropping her on the armchair.

Gellert waved his Elder Wand once, and abruptly, magical chains erupted from the stone floor, instantly wrapping themselves around the woman's legs, arms and torso, pinning her in place.

"Leave us," said Gellert shortly in brisk German, gesturing dismissively at the guards.

With just a sharp nod of their heads and a click of their boots as they snapped their heels together, the Wizards then spun around and soon shut the door behind them.

The only sound that filled the room was the fast breathing of the witch before him. He could clearly see that she was fighting to control herself, showing the strength of character he often admired. While he took great delight in breaking people of their control, the lack of control over oneself offended him greatly.

Happy to keep her in suspense for a short while longer, Gellert observed the woman.

Dressed in a simple white dress robe that marked her station were, now nothing more than filthy rags, with trails of dried blood running down her legs and arms. A single gold laurel leaf brooch was pinned to her chest no longer gleaming as it had once had and a golden necklace that adorned her neck. Bruises marred her face, but still he could appreciate the witch's beauty. The curves that still lingered on her body even after a month of low rations; the ample bosom, the small waist and wide hips. The large black eyes that glistened still like obsidian jewels and dark curls that framed her face.

She was beautiful. Though had she truly been in the finery of her station then she would have been even more so.

Always one to admire beauty in all shapes and forms, he strode forth and soon halted in front of her. His lips quirking upwards into a twisted parody of a charming and courteous smile, as he intoned pleasantly in a faultless Greek "My esteemed Pythia" a finger traced along her jaw forcing her to look up at him.

Black eyes met his.

His twisted smile widened at the fiery spirit that glistened beneath them.

She hadn't broken.

Even after a month alone in the dark on the deepest level of his fortress.

It pleased him to no end.

"I do believe we need to have a little chat, my dear." He paused, ensuring that understanding sunk into her eyes before he continued "tell me love, which of the following guarantees my victory..."