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The chains are a bit much , Albus thinks as he’s led down the empty hallway. Everyone is gathered in the Great Hall, no doubt murmuring among themselves about the months of negotiation between the kings of the Isles and the representatives of Emperor Grindelwald. Albus knows the people are wondering what this event could mean, if this means the negotiations are over? Are they safe? And if so, at what cost?
No one seems to know, as not a single scrap of information has left their kings or their advisors. Even his guards, the ten most promising Aurors in the Isles, don’t know why they’re leading him to the hall. They don’t know why he’s wrapped in iron chains, enough to kill a fae, or why his presence is required in such a way at this event. But Albus knows.
He knows, for instance, that he could escape the chains if he wanted to. The iron does dull his magic’s response to his call, but he can manage if he truly wants to.
He knows that the negotiations are in fact over, and at a relatively low cost for the citizens of the Isles. Especially considering the years of war between the parties.
He knows that he is being used as a bargaining chip by the Isles, more specifically by King Fawley of Britannia, against the other kings’ wishes.
He knows that Emperor Grindelwald is not, in fact, at his capital right now and is actually inside the palace right now. Waiting.
He also knows that no one is aware of half of that, nor do they know that he knows the half they do know about. But, what can he say? He has always prided himself on his knowledge. And connections.
So, here he is, being escorted to the Great Hall, knowing more than his guards and captors. More than almost all of the people in the Great Hall, truthfully. This should prove to be very entertaining.
When they reach the double doors, the two knights and Auror stationed there stare. “Professor?” the Auror asks, brow furrowed as his gaze moves from the ten Aurors surrounding him, to the chains wrapped all over. He remembers Theseus Scamander, he was a good student and skilled in magic, though nothing above average. His brother Newt on the other hand...
“Stand down, Auror,” the leader orders. Travers, Head Auror of Britannia. He never did like Albus in the first place, so he isn’t surprised Travers looks near giddy at having him in chains. He can’t wait to watch that grin fall from his face when he finds out what’s happening.
Theseus hesitates, but ultimately nods and steps aside, signalling the knights to open the doors for them. Everyone in the hall turns and stares as Albus is led down the scarlet velvet aisle toward the raised dais, where the four Kings and head representative of Emperor Grindelwald stand. Waiting.
The crowd parts for them without a word, no one daring to speak. Only the sounds of shifting fabric and the clanking chains echo through the hall, deafening after the clamour of so many people in such a space.
He calmly marches, shoulders set back and as relaxed as he can make them, considering the weight of the chains. He won’t give anyone in this room the satisfaction of seeing him weak, of seeing him brought down. He is just as strong in chains as he is without them. This changes nothing.
Travers stops at the edge of the dais, bowing to the kings. “Professor of the Defence Against the Dark Arts at Hogwarts: School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, Albus Dumbledore, your Majesties. Representative Rosier.”
Vinda grins her cat-smile down at him, unsettling to all but her friends. And Albus certainly isn’t a stranger. He coolly blinks at her, the only thing possible to do without mistakenly signalling confusion or speaking; the iron gag around his mouth sees to that. The slight bow of her head suggests she received his message even so.
“Thank you, Head Auror Travers,” King Fawley coldly greets, looking down his nose at the group. “With everyone here now, I believe we can get started.” There’s some muttering but everyone settles down.
The King of Ireland approaches the front. “Our greetings to you all. As many of you know, we have been in discussions for many months with Emperor Grindelwald and his representatives. Those negotiations have ended with a treaty between the five of us.”
“The Treaty of the Isles,” the King of Wales says, stepping forward. “It guarantees peace between our kingdoms and the Ingens Empire. In exchange for the end to the war, the Ingens Empire is recognized as a true empire, and all land they lay claim to is hereby recognized as belonging to the empire.”
There’s a pause, the King of Scotland shaking his head and stepping back. “No,” he says, only loud enough for those on the dais and Albus to hear. “I refuse. This isn’t right.”
King Fawley takes the leap instead. “All trade is protected between our lands and the Ingens Empire as well. In exchange, Emperor Grindelwald is to have the hand in marriage of the strongest wizard in the Isles.” All the air seems to rush out of the hall as his king turns to Albus. “Thank you, Professor Dumbledore, for your—”
His chains vanish with a touch to the ritual’s dried blood he drew on beforehand.
Really, they should have checked for any rituals before they brought him here. It’s really just sloppy.
“Well played, my King.” Albus smoothly claps once, twice, thrice. Ignoring the ten wands pointed at him for now, he smiles up at the kings, baring just a bit too much teeth to be seen as polite. “Arresting me was a good move, I admit, as was chaining me up in iron. However, you miscalculated when you neglected to inform me of your decision to marry me off without my knowledge or consent. I had hoped you would bring it to my attention before you revealed it to everyone gathered here today, but alas, that was not so.”
He turns slightly to direct his focus away from Fawley’s curdling face to Vinda’s near-feral grin, eyes blazing with satisfaction. Her hand hovers with practised ease over a skull button on her hip, the one that will summon his fellow orchestrator to the dais when he signals her.
“My dear Vinda, I fear you were wise to tell me after all. Thank you for your foresight,” he says with a small dip of his head to her.
“Oh,” she purrs, finger tapping the skull button, “ monseigneur , you know it is not I who has the Sight.”
Fire erupts on the dais and amid the screams, Emperor Gellert Grindelwald appears. “Well met, citizens of the Isles,” he cries with a grin, fire dying out around him. Not even a singe on the stones beneath his feet. “I suppose my vision came true then?”
“Not a single word about it to me from them,” Albus confirms, dipping his head once more in a small bow. “Thank you for taking it upon yourself to inform me, Gellert.” Sharp intakes of breath echo throughout the hall.
“Of course Albus, I wouldn’t marry just anyone, much less without their consent.” Gellert flippantly waves away the subject, though Albus can see the controlled anger in the magic curling around his fingers and flickering around his eyes. “Now, anything to say, o Kings of the Isles?”
The kings gape at them, not saying a word.
“Good, good. Our agreed-upon conditions will begin tomorrow at dawn, however...” He trails off, hand gracefully held out to Albus. He takes it with a fond smile, effortlessly taking the step up onto the dais to stand at Gellert’s side. “I do believe I will be taking my fiancé now,” Gellert finishes, apparating away right as the yelling breaks out.
They land in Nurmengard’s Great Hall, a near-mirror image of the hall they just left. The crowd roars at their entrance, their joyous cheers a deep contrast to the fearful screams that had echoed just a few seconds ago in Albus’s ears.
“My people!” Gellert yells, quickly making his way to the edge of the stage. “My people! The time has come for our empire! For too long we have fought other kingdoms, fighting for our lives and a better future!” He moves from side to side, coat lifting behind him from the force. “But no more. For we have succeeded, my people!”
The cheers from the crowd grow and Gellert pauses, soaking it in. Albus watches from the back, admiring how well his fiancé captivates a crowd. He can play them as easily as an instrument, and yet is still so honest with them, just as excited for the prospect of peace as they are. It’s magical, truly.
“The Kingdoms of the Isles have signed a treaty with us, acknowledging us as a true empire and ending the war! And that is not all!” Gellert pauses dramatically, waiting for the ebb of the cheers once more. “As all of you know, I am not alone leading this glorious empire. Leaders and representatives of all sectors plan with me, advising and discussing how to win the war while not sacrificing you, the reason we do all this. But!”
He snaps to a standstill, the centre of attention at the front of the dais. A vacuum of silence fills the hall besides the ghostly echo of cheers.
“There is another who leads alongside us,” Gellert declares. “One you have no doubt heard of, be it by news or rumours. And I know there are many about him; my husband, the one who has been at my side since the beginning.” He lets the whispers swell before continuing. “My equal in power and knowledge, he has helped guide this empire from the shadows when we were fighting politicians with nothing but hope in our hearts. When Ingens was just a group of like-minded people, wishing for a better place. When we were just two boys, with a dream in our heads.
“Well, my people. We have waited a long time to reveal him, for he has been ensuring Ingens’ path was as smooth as possible from behind the scenes, paving the way for the Treaty of the Isles. And now, it is finally time for him to leave the shadows and enjoy our dream in person.”
One more dramatic pause, the cheers crescendoing as Albus breathes in the moment. Their dream, given life. Every one of these people in the crowd, proof of the dream made real. Their people, free from the restrictions of the world, free to be their truest selves.
“I present to you, dear citizens of the Ingens Empire, my husband, Emperor Albus Dumbledore!”
The sound is near-deafening as Albus walks up to stand next to Gellert. The glamour on their wedding rings vanishes for the first time in thirty years, as they take each other’s hand with mirror smiles.
Oh the journey it’s been to get here, to stand beside his husband while their empire cheers, alive and thriving. But he doesn’t regret the long years it’s taken, the blood, sweat, and tears it’s cost to get here, the pain he’s endured to have this. The joy on his people’s faces, the glow Gellert has about him... it is worth everything and so much more.
“You know you only had to appear, love,” Albus points out. “The fire was unnecessary.”
“Mein Herz, it is always necessary. I have a reputation to uphold, after all.” Gellert grins at him from his closet, where he’s still choosing outfits for their public coronation tomorrow. “And besides, you got a dramatic entrance too.”
“Being brought out in chains, a sacrifice for people who never gave me a choice, is hardly a dramatic entrance,” Albus argues, idly flipping the page in his book. “Though the amount they draped me in was quite the look.”
“I had assumed they were only placing the usual dampeners on you. The mass of chains were much more impactful,” Gellert muses, eyeing a waistcoat. “I’m glad you gifted me the memory after we left, I would have re-declared war just for that.”
“I’d rather see their faces when we are crowned equals,” Albus admits. “I suspect they think I’m just a whore to you.”
“Insulting! I’m just as much of a whore as you,” Gellert grumbles. “The chains were their idea, really they shouldn’t judge on things they made you wear.”
“Dear, you do recall that they used me as a bargaining chip and you agreed with it? Their assumption of you wanting to fuck me would make sense.”
“As far as they know, I asked for consent!”
“You’re chivalrous in your plan to make me your whore. Well done.”
“Thank you.”
They lapse into a comfortable silence, broken only by pages turning and Gellert’s soft murmurs to himself as he narrows his choices down. After a few hours, he finally decides on a sleek but well-embroidered blue and silver three piece with matching heeled boots. Albus rolls his eyes, knowing it’ll contrast nicely to his outfit that he had made two years ago for this, which should have made this whole thing so much quicker.
But, his husband refuses to appear without an outfit worth remembering. Considering it’s such a public and important event, Albus is almost shocked it only took Gellert four hours to decide.
Albus glances to his side, catching Gellert’s eye. They grin at each other as their carriage makes its way through the streets to their coronation, an event they’ve spent decades planning and working towards.
“Ready?” he asks his husband, the carriage slowing as it nears their destination. This is the moment they’ve been working towards for thirty years, everything they’ve done for this single moment.
Gellert is near-glowing when he laughs. “Albus darling, we were born for this.” He leans in, grin bright, feral, perfect . “Of course I’m ready.”
The carriage door opens, Vinda in her dark velvet green gown greeting them. “Welcome, your Majesties,” she says, a victorious grin tugging at her poised smile.
“My dear Vinda,” Gellert replies, taking her hand to exit the carriage. His blue and silver finery shimmer in the sunlight as he turns back to Albus, bejewelled hand held out to him.
Albus takes it and carefully steps out, the deep royal purple of his cloak spilling out of the carriage behind him. “Hello Vinda,” he says once he’s standing next to his husband. “Has anything happened?”
“No,” she reports, not quite at parade stance but with more than enough attention to command respect. “Everything is in place.”
“Everything?” Albus checks, knowing this whole ceremony rests on one thing. Or, rather, two people.
“Everything,” she confirms.
“Perfect,” Gellert says. “We await your signal then, my dear.”
She curtsies and walks up the stairs, to her position at the doors. They open just a crack, enough to allow her entry without revealing even a sliver of what’s inside to the couple, nor the outside world to those inside.
“Did we ever get a reply from my brother?” Albus asks as they wait, arm in arm, for their entrance.
“Hmm, we may have, though it was probably covered in hexes and so destroyed.” Gellert shrugs. “By now he must know of this, one way or the other. Perhaps he’s here, perhaps he’s not. Does it matter?”
Once, Albus might have said yes. Yes of course it matters whether his brother, the only living blood he has left, is here to see his marriage affirmed in front of the leaders of the magical world. Yes of course it matters that Aberforth be there when Albus is crowned Emperor next to his husband.
However, he and his brother haven’t talked in years. He has other family now, not by blood but by choice. And he doesn’t want to stop someone from attempting to kill his husband again, especially not on such an important day like today.
“No, it doesn’t matter,” Albus finally decides. “He doesn’t matter. Don’t know why we even sent him an invitation in the first place.”
“Because rubbing it in his face that we were right and he was wrong is always a win,” Gellert answers easily. “And because I wanted to make sure he paid attention to this, so he knows we’re equals in power.”
“Still not over it?”
Gellert glares at him. “Of course I’m not over it Albus, he said I was just using you for sex! And now everyone thinks that! I have never treated you—”
“Last week,” Albus interrupts. Of course he’d done the same to Gellert sometime last month, but he had to point it out.
“That was consensual.” Gellert waves it away with his free hand. “And only for our bedroom. I have never treated you like that publicly .” Can’t argue with that, they’ve always been equals.
Albus shrugs. “Who knows why, love. Perhaps it’s the power dynamic they see, a man spearheading war and a professor. Hardly equal in their minds, you must admit.”
“Yes yes, I suppose. Still is infuriating.”
“We’re literally about to prove them all wrong and watch them realise just how many strings we’ve been pulling behind the scenes,” Albus points out. “If anything, it just adds proof to our case and shows how you aren’t truly evil.”
“If I’m evil, then you’re right beside me my dear.”
“Exactly where I wish to be then.”
Gellert opens his mouth to retort when Vinda slips out of the doors. “Get up here,” she hisses, glancing back inside.
A deep breath, and Albus walks up the steps, side by side with Gellert. Vinda nods once they’re in position and slips back inside.
“I love you,” he whispers, knowing any moment the doors will slam open and the ceremony will begin.
“I love you too,” Gellert replies, entwining their fingers together. “Are you ready?”
“With you at my side? Always.”
As if his words were the command they were waiting for, the doors burst open and the crowd erupts from the hall, light spilling out in golden rays, a victorious onslaught of sensations as they step forward into the hall, their hall.
From across it, at the centre of the dais, stands Vinda, who gestures for the crowd to quiet before speaking. “Magical kind, citizens, guests, welcome. We are gathered here today for the crowning of the first emperors of our great Empire!” A pause for the cheers to go down. “I have the honour to introduce you to the only two who could crown such a couple.”
From behind her, a magical barrier shimmers out of existence, revealing a proud couple dressed in platinum.
As gasps rip through the crowd, Vinda grins. “Nicolas and Perenelle Flamel,” she announces, stepping back to fade from view as the couple step forward.
“Albus and Gellert Dumbledore-Grindelwald!” they call, voices echoing through the hall as the crowd falls silent, no one daring to make a noise. “If you would be crowned Emperors today, step forth into your hall and claim your crowns!”
With a deep breath and quick glance from the corners of their eyes, they step forward into their hall and begin their walk.
The walk is long, regal, designed to demonstrate the power the couple has. It also allows them to be seen by their subjects and enemies alike and observe them in return. There are those who cheer, who gaze upon them as if seeing angels, reverent and devoted. There are those who watch with curiosity, hope slowly peeking out through their eyes, pleading for this to be true but wary of misplaced trust.
And then there are those with nothing but hatred in their minds and hearts. Those that sneer, that watch but can’t let a single sound out of their mouths. Disgust radiates out of them, hanging like a cloud around their bodies, warning others of their rotten intent.
Albus makes sure to shine his widest smile their way, rubbing it in their faces how perfectly happy he is. Especially when they finally reach the row of rulers and representatives, many who would have—and some who did in fact try—to sell him out for their own safety. His joy will only unnerve them more, setting the scene for what’s to come.
Finally, they reach the raised dais at the front of the hall and as one, they stop and kneel to the greatest living witch and wizard in their world.
Albus beams up at his mentors, who look at once radiant and untouchable, youthful yet every century they have seen coats them, drips off of them as if it were a physical manifestation of their magic.
They had leapt at the opportunity when he and Gellert had asked them years ago, Nicolas in tears while Perenelle refused to stop smiling for the rest of the day. At last is this moment, the one they had dreamed would come, so close at hand.
“Citizens!” Nicolas begins. “Today we crown these, the founders of the Ingens Empire, the first Magical Empire, as rulers and Emperors.”
“Thirty-four years ago,” Perenelle picks up, “these two met. Together, they thought up a world of freedom, of truth, of justice. And so, this great empire was created, a dream that would become so much more. A dream made reality today.”
“Their commitment to the empire has always been first in their minds, even above their own relationship and marriage,” Nicolas continues, glancing down at the couple for a moment. “For thirty years, they lived on different continents, spoke through letters, forever working towards their shared dream despite the longing in their hearts.”
Gellert squeezes his hand in comfort, grounding him in the present before memories can pull him away.
“Therefore,” Perenelle says as she and Nicolas raise their hands and silently summon their crowns, “we recognize the commitment of these two wizards towards freedom, equality, and justice.”
Nicolas takes a step forward, holding the crown over Albus’ head. “Albus Percival Wulfric Brian Dumbledore-Grindelwald, do you swear before all gathered today to honour those who call your lands home above all else, to care for and protect all who seek safety in your lands, to defend your people with every drop of magic in your veins?”
“I do.”
The magic embedded into the words stretches, dancing around him as it begins to bind itself to his magic, thin connections tying them to each other.
“Do you swear to keep to the law of the people, to place the wellbeing of the many over your own, and to respect every citizen of the empire until your dying breath?”
“I do.”
His magic shudders as it twists and curls, the magical binding growing stronger around him.
“Do you swear to uphold the tenets of freedom, equality, truth, and justice in your lands until death forces you to part?”
“I do.”
The binding sinks into his bones, lays waste to his heart, etches itself into the very foundation of his magic. He is bound to his empire now, to its growth and survival, lest he wishes to die an early and hellish death.
Next, Perenelle steps forward, holding the other crown over Gellert’s head. “Gellert Dumbledore-Grindelwald, do you swear before all gathered today to honour those who call your lands home above all else, to care for and protect all who seek safety in your lands, to defend your people with every drop of magic in your veins?”
“I do,” Gellert intones, brilliant and bright, certain in his devotion.
“Do you swear to keep to the law of the people, to place the wellbeing of the many over your own, and to respect every citizen of the empire until your dying breath?”
“I do.”
“Do you swear to uphold the tenets of freedom, truth, equality, and justice in your lands until death forces you to part?”
“I do.”
With finality, Albus bows his head in sync with Gellert, allowing the crowns to be settled onto their heads.
“Rise,” the greatest witch and wizard order.
Carefully, Albus and Gellert rise to their feet, squeezing their hands one last time before turning to their subjects, awash in the glow of a new era.
“Behold, the Founders of the Ingens Empire!” they proclaim to the hall, voices as old as the stone under their feet. “Behold, the Protectors of Freedom, of Truth, of Equality, of Justice! Behold, the First Emperors of the Ingens Empire!”
As one, the crowd rears up, cheering with everything they have as a deafening wave of sound bursts through the hall. Distantly, Albus can hear bells ringing out, announcing the good news to all.
He grins, his people’s happiness shining like a beacon above them, guiding them to a better, brighter future.
The only dark spots are the few rows of other rulers, who glower at the beaming citizens around them. Albus only grins broader, not caring if they find it unseemly.
Let it be remembered for generations to come how Albus Dumbledore-Grindelwald tricked every single ruler, how he had been married to their greatest nightmare while they had attempted to sell him out to save their own skins.
Let it be recorded for centuries to come how they had simply played into the couple’s hands.
Let it be forever passed down, in every work, in every retelling of this moment, how he had been crowned Emperor beside his lover and looked out over his subjects, how he had smiled even as others frowned.
Let the weak-willed ones fear, for they did not know it would only grow in the coming days, months, years.
Let them remember that he held more power than they could ever imagine, than they could ever hold.
Let history suggest he was seduced by a nightmare, or perhaps that he had seduced Gellert into becoming a nightmare.
Let this moment be immortalised and preserved for centuries to come, the beginning of the first and greatest empire the world had ever known.
So Albus smiles as he glances over at his husband, and when their eyes meet, they cannot help but laugh. For the same joy he feels is only mirrored in his lover, and why should they contain it when they have succeeded?
To the victor go the spoils, after all. And they have conquered the world.