''(Y/N)?''
Robert was waving a hand in front of my eyes. ''(Y/N), are you OK?'' he asked, as he manoeuvred around me to look me in my eyes. Only then, he managed to pull me from the trance I had been in.
I shook my head in an attempt to clear it. ''Sorry?'' I said, as I slowly focused on his face, frowning. I tried to look over his shoulder at the alley where I thought I had just seen Grindelwald. ''Is something wrong?'' he asked as he caught my gaze once more.
''Didn't you see him?'' I asked him softly, as I took a step back. ''I mean, he's quite hard to miss,'' I stated as I, once more, glanced at the alley. ''Who? What are you talking about?'' Robert asked, his voice now sounding anxious and worried.
I looked at him, finally feeling my thoughts sorting themselves out. ''Never mind. I must've imagined it,'' I said swiftly. I smiled at him when his expression didn't change and waved the file case in front of his eyes. ''We did it. We finally have information,'' I said as I took his arm and dragged him to an alley so we could disapparate.
Despite the little play I put on for Robert, as not to worry him, I wondered if what I had seen had not been a figment of my imagination. If, maybe, just maybe, I had just sighted the most wanted, and probably, the most dangerous wizard in the entire world.
☘
Grindelwald's P.O.V (Third Person)
The cold air hit his cheeks as he appeared in the middle of the forest. His feet sunk a few millimetres into the crunching snow beneath, making his feet feel cold even through his boots. His breath formed little clouds of condensing as he breathed in and out.
He still saw her in his mind's eye. He could still feel that strange connection he suddenly felt when her eyes met his. And she. She seemed to see right through his disguise like it was nothing.
Had he all imagined it? Or was there something about this girl that he seemed unable to comprehend or foresee?
He sat down on a rock near the frozen lake and watched the subtle cracks in its surface. The wind blew through his short, platinum blonde hair, ruffling it.
Her face seemed familiar to him. Her eyes. As if he'd seen them before. And her hair. She had the same hair like him, which was something he found strange. He had never seen anyone before with the same hair colour as himself. She had even mumbled his name, for heaven's sake!
He shook his head and rubbed his eyes. ''Surely it was nothing more than a coincidence,'' he told himself as he stood and stared at the shining lake. Or was it?
He frowned, let out a yell and grabbed his wand, sending a flash of bright red light into the lake, piercing the ice with a loud, convincing crack, before watching it melt away around the edge where his spell had hit.
He swallowed, relaxed his expression and started striding away, disapparating as he went, returning to his lair, leaving behind the broken surface of a once beautiful sight.
☘
(Y/N)'s P.O.V
Once we were seated at the dinner table, I carefully opened the file, feeling the nerves and excitement returning. For now, I had decided to ignore the encounter with Grindelwald and thought it better to leave it as it was and first find my parents.
I wasn't even sure it had been him. It could've been my imagination, my mind conjuring up strange sights because of everything that was going on in my head.
Robert and I sat opposite each other, the file resting on the table in between us. ''This is it. This is the moment I've been waiting for for years,'' I smiled and Robert grinned in return. ''So why wait, come on, open it!'' he said as he impatiently nudged the files toward me.
I took them and immediately noticed my hands started to tremble again. What if you find something you don't want to know?
The thought came sudden and unwanted. I was nervous enough already. I couldn't use these thoughts at the moment. So, ignoring it and deciding to do it quickly so as not to have any more of these thoughts, I opened the case and looked at the first page.
My mind was racing as I read the first few words. After staying silent for several seconds, Robert caught my gaze and watched me questioningly. ''So? What does it say?'' he asked impatiently.
I shrugged and said, ''basically, it confirms that the name of my mother is Naomie Peterson. It also states her date of birth, which is actually in two days. However, the identity of my father is unknown.'' I sighed tiredly.
''Can I see?''
I passed him the page before I continued to the next. On which, to my greatest surprise, was stated where my mother lived. ''Bobby,'' I whispered, my voice barely audible. ''Look,'' I said incredulously as I passed him the page. He took it curiously, scanning the contents. I saw his gaze halt on the address.
''We know where she lives,'' I stated calmly before locking eyes with him. There was a curt silence before we both burst out laughing. ''We know where my mother is!'' I shouted with obvious glee overflowing my voice. I sprang up from my chair and started dancing around. ''I'm going to meet my mother!'' I yelled happily.
''And maybe,'' I said as I stopped and turned to Robert. ''She can tell me about my dad!'' I watched Robert look at me with a broad grin before he, too, stood up and we started dancing together.
''We found them,'' I whispered, suddenly overwhelmed by emotion. ''We found them. Finally...'' I sat down and felt tears form in my eyes. I knew now, that all my efforts had been rewarded, and I was finally going to take what I deserved. Which was knowledge of my actual heritage.
☘
The cold wind hit our faces as we arrived at the edge of the village in which my mother lived. Or used to live.
The address mentioned in my files were recorded when I was brought to the orphanage. There was a chance she wasn't here at all, but I tried to ignore that possibility. Mostly because every time I thought of it sent a wave of anxiety through my stomach and the nerves almost got me to throw up.
We followed the signs and roads until we came to a desolate cottage which looked abandoned.
This was the house the address belonged to, which meant my mother was inside.
I strode forward toward the cottage, no longer being able to keep in my nerves and insecurities. I sped toward the door, Robert at my heels, calling for me to slow down. I ignored him, his voice only a faint sound in the back of my mind.
I noticed a graveyard further down the road. Expensive looking stones were sitting on the soil, marking the place where a dead body was buried below. I shivered at the thought and returned my attention to the cottage.
Then suddenly I stood in front of the door, knocking three times, then taking a step back. Robert finally caught up with me, trying to catch his breath. He bent over on his knees, but I was too preoccupied with the fact I was about to see my mother.
We stood there for several seconds before I knocked again, impatiently leaning on the balls of my feet. When the door remained shut I moved to a window and peered inside. There was no light, no movement.
I could already feel the fear creeping up on me when there was suddenly a voice behind us. ''Can I ask what you're doing?''
I turned around, my breathing quick and my heart hammering in my chest.
My eyes locked with that of a woman with grey eyes, brown hair and a big scar on her right cheek. Her accent indicated she was not originally from there. She watched us with an eyebrow raised. ''Well?''
I glanced at Robert before stepping forward. ''I'm sorry, but are you, Naomie Peterson?'' I asked the woman softly. She looked me up and down, settling on my face. ''Sadly, no. Naomie passed away sixteen years ago,'' the woman replied, her face falling.
There fell a silence between us and I felt a sudden emptiness inside. I felt my hopes go up in smoke.
If my mother was dead, then how was I to find my father. How was I to get to know her?
I felt tears form in my eyes, but I made no move to wipe them away. I was paralyzed. Unable to move or speak. Robert came up behind me and placed an arm around my shoulder, squeezing it gently. The woman watched me sympathetically before softly asking me, ''Do you happen to be (Y/N)?'' she asked softly as she took a step closer.
I looked at her, ripped from my thoughts. Opening my mouth and feeling the dryness that made my voice crack. ''Yes...How did you know?'' I couldn't do more than whisper. I had seemed to have lost my ability to speak properly.
She then smiled. ''You look like her,'' she said softly. Then she sighed. ''I'm Naomie's sister. My name is Anne Peterson,'' she said. ''Or, Peters.''
She waited a minute to let this sink in before she continued, ''I was heading for her grave. It's her birthday today,'' she said with a smile. ''I wondered if maybe you'd like to accompany me?''
I nodded and watched her walk past us toward the graveyard we had seen earlier. I took a deep, shaky breath before following her. I was trembling. My eyes were watering and my cheeks were red from the cold as were my nose and ears.
I couldn't believe that she was dead. That Robert and I had been tracking down a dead woman for the past few weeks. Months even.
I swallowed and looked forward, realizing that we had almost reached the entrance of the cemetery which was my mother's final resting place. Somehow, now I knew she was buried in that place, it felt less scary than before.
The thought made me sad that I would never be able to see her, to hug her or have a conversation with her. Anne, or Aunt Anne I realized, stopped in front of a big archway which was the entrance into the cemetery.
''Are you alright, dear?'' Anne asked as she turned to me and took my hand in her gloved one. I nodded with a small smile before turning to face the big stone archway. ''This is where my mother is?'' I asked her softly, my voice breaking at the end.
''Yes,'' she replied sadly. ''Come, let me show you,'' she said as she passed under the archway and entered the cemetery. I followed her.
As we passed smooth, marble gravestones my chest felt tight and a lump formed in my throat.
She led us to an old looking gravestone. There wasn't any maintenance done on the small burial grounds, leaves covered the ground everywhere.
As she halted in front of the gravestone. She pulled out a short wand and muttered under her breath. A small bouquet appeared at the feet of the gravestone.
I couldn't breathe. It said:
Naomie Peters
A beloved sister and daughter.
I felt a pang of sadness. She was my mother, yet there was nothing on there that might say anything about the fact that she had me.
Suddenly I felt angry with her. Angry with the woman that was buried beneath my feet for giving me up. I had made excuses for her. Reasons why she might not have kept me.
I turned to Anne and watched her with tears in my eyes. ''Why did she give me up?'' I asked, my voice a little more aggressive than I had intended. ''She was sick,'' she replied. ''It was also that sickness that took her life sixteen years ago,'' she explained softly.
''She couldn't care for you anymore. Not even after her disease started to show less extreme symptoms. She was still sick.''
I looked at the gravestone with tears in my eyes. ''Then why didn't I go to my dad? Why didn't he care for me, why didn't you? Aren't you family?'' I asked, fighting the tears. ''Because I, myself, wasn't more than a child back then. I might look old, but let that not deceive you.''
Then her expression turned to the ground and she said, her voice barely audible. ''As for your father, he didn't know of your existence. He still doesn't, quite frankly. Besides, he was in no condition to carry for a child. Nor will he ever be,'' she said angrily.
I watched her confused. ''You look like him too,'' she said as her gaze settled on my face once more. ''Mostly because of your hair, but you have a lot of his features too,'' she stated. I looked into her eyes and saw a sad, sympathetic one in her eyes.
''Do you know who my father is?'' I asked her softly, my eyes widening, a new glint of hope entering my system.
''I do,'' she stated, her hair ruffling in the wind. ''But they made me swear not to tell anyone. Least of all, you. If I did, or if anyone did, you wouldn't be allowed to go to Hogwarts.''
I watched her in confusion and glanced at Robert who shrugged. ''Who made you swear this?'' I asked her urgently.
She sighed. ''The Ministry of Magic. They said that if you were aware you might form a danger to yourself and others.''
Her tale started sounding more and more strange and ominous. I started getting an anxious feeling in my stomach. Her inability to tell me right away frustrated me.
''Well, I'm off age now. There's nothing they can do,'' I told her as I took her hands in mine. She looked away in a desperate attempt to avoid eye contact.
I took a deep breath, and as she returned her gaze toward me, I asked her, ''Please, Anne. Who is my father?''
Her eyes were tearful now, and as she opened her mouth to speak, my world seemed to stop moving, until her words hit me, and I realized the shocking truth.
''Gellert Grindelwald.''