Chapter Text
Notes: * “Aberratio Ictus”: “Blow that does not reach the intended goal." Legal adage.
* Did you also feel like you were left wanting more regarding the development of Queenie Goldstein's character at the end of the third film? The absence of my favorite character at the time, Tina Goldstein, made me more interested in her sister Queenie and the character Vinda Rosier who I fell in love with. The performance of Mads Mikkelsen, who plays Grindelwald as I had always imagined him, also really charmed me. This summer, I started making Rosegold edits on Tik Tok, and at the same time, I began to be interested in Nurmengard and the influence exerted there. That's how I got the idea for this fanfiction. I had the chance to offer the first four chapters to Poppy Corby-Tuech, the actor of Vinda, who herself spoke about it to Alison Sudol, who plays Queenie. Through this fanfiction, I would like to explore a facet of the wizarding world that J.K. Rowling only touched on, and I would also like to make you love Rosegold. Thank you for reading and I wish you a good reading ~
Playlist to listen to while reading:
- YKWIM?, Yot Club.
- Your Story is Our Story, James Newton Howard.
Nurmengard, September 11, 1927.
Dominating the pristine white sky, the tallest tower of Nurmengard Castle rose into the horizon, tearing through nonexistent clouds. Its grayish skeleton seemed to stand on top of the mountain, ready to welcome its new guests straight from Paris. Its slender shadow reminded Queenie of the frightening silhouette of a Dementor. Unlike her sister Tina, the family Auror, she had never seen one with her own eyes, but she had studied these creatures during her fourth year at Ilvermorny. Somehow, Nurmengard Castle reminded her of her old school: isolated, misty, majestic, but much less welcoming. Ilvermorny had become her new home when her parents died. They hadn't even seen her enter, unlike her sister. It was a dozen years ago.
Seized with another sob, Queenie lowered her head, wrapping herself in her own arms. Two tears fell onto the lightly frosted grass, the third onto her shoe. Was Nurmengard guarded by Dementors? Because she felt a despair that seemed to gnaw at her from the inside, burning away the slightest pleasant sensation inside her. She had first lost both of her parents to dragoncella, a disease that had ravaged their village during the summer of 1914. And she had just lost Jacob to the hands of the Ministry of Magic. He had been there at the wrong time. Nothing more than collateral damage in their eyes, no doubt. A confused and misguided no-maj. With two waves of the wand, it was over. Beyond the blue flames she had crossed earlier, Queenie had glimpsed a red spark, then the famous green light. Impossible to turn back to try to help him. He collapsed to the floor like a rag doll and she immediately regretted her decision. She would have gladly given her life for him.
What would Tina think? Would she position herself on the side of the ministry, again and again? Even if one of her colleagues had unwillingly caused the death of their friend? Or would she blame him too? This ministry which prohibited everything and only served its own interests... She would learn to live against it and without her sister. Just like she was going to have to learn to live without Jacob for the rest of her life. Queenie sniffed sadly and slowly raised her head. The cold was biting, like the thoughts of Grindelwald's supporters towards her.
“Who is that one? Why is she crying?"
“You should be happy to be here, you idiot!”
“No decency, she shames her witch blood. No better than a muggle!" she heard in a strong British accent.
All followed by other insults in a foreign language, as well as murmurs in sharp French lost in the wind. Then suddenly, a warm and light hand brushing against the back of her neck to rest delicately on her shoulder...
“It’s going to be okay,” a young woman told her in a comforting French accent.
Her intervention seemed to surprise and even frighten the mocking witches and wizards. Queenie examined her face through her own tears. Pale skin, jet black hair, a slightly upturned nose. She was beautiful, like a few hours ago in the Paris rain, and wore the same worried and patient look as at that moment. Violette… No, Vinda Rosier. One of Gellert Grindelwald's closest lieutenants. Just as she had offered her the shelter of her umbrella a little earlier, she politely handed her a handkerchief embroidered with a rose.
“T-thank you,” Queenie stammered, her green eyes catching on any sign of familiarity and comfort she could find in the moment.
Vinda gave a slight smile in return. She had removed her hand from Queenie's shoulder and was now observing her as one watches a baby bird struggling to fly away. The American witch staggered slightly with emotion and apparation. Now that she had her in front of her, she recognized Vinda as the one who had helped her apparate here. The woman seemed to have made it a personal responsibility and offered her her arm again.
"Everything is okay now, you are safe."
No one dared to insult Queenie anymore, even internally. She still saw a wizard looking at her with jealousy, secretly cursing Merlin for not being a damsel in distress. A little further away, Grindelwald followed the interaction of the two women with a satisfied air. She recognized Credence near him.
"Welcome to Nurmengard, my friends," declared Grindelwald, inviting his audience to follow him.
Queenie clung to Vinda Rosier's arm just as she had let herself be covered by her umbrella on the ground of Paris. That is to say slowly. Silently. Desperately. She no longer had Jacob and she had turned her back on Tina. All she had left were her more than fragile beliefs, her shattered hopes, and a broken heart. And all of this now rested against the arm of a witch whose name and allegiance she only knew. She smelled good. A distinguished floral scent that had withstood the smoke and flames of battle. Queenie would have guessed her as Tina's age, maybe a year older.
In the crowd led by Grindelwald (he now had an arm on Credence's shoulder), young and older wizards of all nationalities blended together. Queenie wouldn't have known where Nurmengard Castle was located. In the mountains, probably very far from home and everything she had known so far. It had to be untraceable, just like Ilvermorny was for security reasons. She could feel the powerful spells protecting the smallest part already covered in a thin film of snow.
“We’re going to have fun here, I tell you,” an American wizard muttered to his comrade. One was short and heavy, and the other was clumsy and slender. It could have been Jacob and Newt.
"In another world…" whispered a red-haired witch while admiring the landscape, her hands clasped in prayer. "It feels like another world..."
Now that the tension of the battle had subsided, reality hit Queenie hard, while many of the other wizards stood in awe. Under her gaze, disenchanted by the brutal death of Jacob, the faithful and fanatics advanced. Were there any wizards under the Imperius Curse in the crowd? This is undoubtedly what the ministry would have assumed. She stopped for a moment, her thoughts racing through her head like rabid Matagots. What if she came home and claimed her hand was forced? Would Tina believe her? No, the Ministry was responsible for Jacob's death, she would now oppose the government of the magical world. This government which was after Grindelwald while they themselves were making non-majors collateral damage. This government which had immediately relegated Tina to the rank of simple secretary when she wanted to protect Credence, then perceived as being devoid of any form of magic. The State had never been the solution. Grindelwald would give everyone their freedom. Either way, she was far too tired and upset to apparate that far alone.
Was it an impression or was Vinda's arm gripping hers more tightly at that moment? It was light, almost imperceptible. They were crossing the immense portal with sharp points. Queenie shivered slightly. When she raised her head, she saw some kind of black sheets moving slowly in the sky.
"Dementors?" she worried again.
"Moremplis," Vinda corrected her. "Don't worry, these creatures only attack in the dark, and only if you are standing still."
“That’s going to reassure me tonight,” Queenie muttered, unconvinced. She thought she saw her interlocutor give an amused smile.
"Misunderstood creatures," declared Grindelwald at the head of the line. "They stand guard in front of the castle to deter potential intruders. They are frightening because they are… different,” he added, giving Credence a penetrating look. "They are often called by the wrong name."
The young man held his gaze, intrigued by his last sentence. Grindelwald crossed the courtyard and climbed a small staircase leading to the entrance. Stay or Apparate? Queenie remembered Tina's words a few weeks ago over dinner:
"The four of us had to continue the operation... Dawlish was exhausted and tried to Apparate alone... didn't want to rely on anyone... I think he wanted to impress Mary, he hasn't changed since Ilvermorny, you know... As a result, he dislocated his arm... If you had seen the wound, you would have turned a blind eye, my poor Queenie..."
"Is everything okay, Miss Goldstein?" Vinda asked her without letting go.
Queenie swallowed and nodded. She felt watched… or protected? Who could be sure of anything out here in the middle of nowhere?
"My brothers and my sisters," continued Grindelwald, turning to his audience. "I have the honor to welcome you into my ranks and to write your names in the ink of the future, for the greater good," he continued, opening his arms. "The gates of Nurmengard will always be open to you, whether you are passing through this evening or wish to reside here."
Perched at the top of a tree, a bird left its branch upon hearing the cries and the thunder of applause which followed these few words. Queenie then picked up a flying feather. It was black as a moonless night.