Yeah, you might not like this, but here's how it's gonna be.

"Of course there's more," Sandra said with a nonchalant wave of her hand. Unfortunately, you might not have as much control over it as you would wish." She took another sip of brandy. "Grindlewald is on his way here now and should be arriving any minute. Mr. Wake and can control him. You cannot. Keep that in mind, dear Leader."

((OK, that's Grindy's cue))

((Well, maybe we should include a theatric summoning scene. Just in case our good friend feels the need to be called.))

Alan remained silent and still as the two conversed. It was a dreadfully long conversation, by Alan Wake's standards. Generally, all he needed in communication was a proper partner and a few words. But humans could be so inefficient, particularly when excited. He allowed Sandra to ramble on, keeping his comments and thoughts to himself, rather than feeding the excitement even more. The leader of the Death Eaters, however, seemed far more moved than Alan had expected. What better should have expected? The man was still an emotional being with feelings and wiles of his own.

How pathetic.

Alan pulled out the now emptied Horcrux in question, as Sandra concluded her long-winded speech. Had it been any other situation, he would have chided Sandra for sounding so confident. As it were, however, she was correct. At this moment, only he and Sandra were considered the Dark Lord's "equals-" the only beings who he respected enough to respond to. He refused to use term "control." Nothing was more fragile than such a concept. Alan did not believe control would benefit anyone, least of all him.
He turned towards the Oak doors, as a pounding sound resonated from the entrance. Alan's cloak move ever so slightly as he turned towards the door, his 14-inch long ebony wand twitching towards the door, a mere spell swinging the door open to reveal the form of a human being.

It had been a long time.

A long time since solid earth had been felt below his feet. A long time since his lungs felt the blessed touch of oxygen. A long time since his mind had so much as though. Yes, it had been a long time since Gellert Grindelwald had simply been. Been alive, been dead, just been, there was no more to be said. Not in his opinion anyway.

Death... Death was something else. It was... indescribable, like a dream which you can remember having, but not what happened in it. But nevertheless, death was not what was on Gellert's mind. Death was for those who were not strong enough, he had been just that, but of course he, the greatest wizard of all time, had held a trick up his sleeve to combat even that supposed fact of life. There are two things you can't avoid in life. Tax, and death. Well, he'd beat on of them.

Of course it was fitting that the manner of his return also be one of the crudest. A pendant, given to him a long time ago, by a man... no, a friend, who now seemed more like a distant memory than anything else.

Nurmengard, of course, was brilliant. He had created it with all his passion, strength and will, of course it was perfect in every way. Of course, this had lead to nothing but misery for himself. Never, not once, had a prisoner of Nurmengard escaped, unfortunately it had remained that way, even when Gellert had returned.

A bird. That was the first thing that had happened. A bloody bird, a rainbow parrot, no less. But it had served a purpose. Inhabiting the bird gave him a sense of feeling, of knowledge. Once he had managed to convey the crucial message to the two people on the other side of this door, he'd instantly been given his ultimate desire. It felt different, sure, but a body is a body, merely an imperfect channel for the will and might of its inhabitor.

Of course once he had gained the one thing that had eluded him for all this time, he knew what to do. 60 years in his own prison, while it had granted him a new set of emotions, and a new train of thought, it had also given him time to think, to realise where he had gone wrong, and to fix the holes in his plan.

His initial ideas had been stupid, of course, brute power was nothing without a level of thought behind it, and what he was capable of now, truly overshadowed what his previous capabilities had been. Now he recognised the true way to gain power, and he recognised how he was going to do it.

Standing here, he didn't think, as some people might, of the eventualities that may unfold once he walked into that room. He knew what would happen, no matter which way it went. His wand, while not as powerful as his previous one, was good enough, and currently sat in his robe pocket, with no future plans of being used. His eyes, the most dulled feature he had, blinked, as he heard the words coming through the door, and he drew his hood over his face, changed by a powerful spell to represent that of someone else, to conceal his identity.

The door opened, and he took this as the right time. With a confident look on his face, he strode into the room and walked past all three occupants, instead walking straight to the fireplace and standing by it, staring into the flames for a moment, completely ignoring the people behind him, before finally turning.

"Good evening," he said, in this new, changed voice.

On his way here? Thaor thought to himself. His eyes widened as he realized what this meant. However, his mind quickly reversed in thought. How can you prove who it is? I do not doubt that you believe it is in fact Grindelwald. But horcruxes can be deceiving, manipulative, they seek to rejoin with a body and will do so at any cost. Thaor said as he looked towards the fireplace in thought.

Thaor was brought back to his senses as something knocked at the doors. The doors opened , and Thaor squinted to make out the figure that walked through the door, and stood near the fireplace. This doesn't look like Gellert, but of course, it wouldn't, would it? It'd be impossible to take his old body back, after all this time. Thaor thought to himself.

Mr. Grindelwald. Thaor said with a slight bow. I find it necessary to confirm your identity, forgive me. Thaor said, moving closer to 'Henry'. I have three questions for you. In what year did you meet Albus Dumbledore, and how old were you two at the time? How many years did you spend in Nurmengard before you were murdered? Thaor said, looking into his eyes waiting for a response.

((... Grrrrrr. Well, I am going off what I remember here. Grindy was imprisoned in 1945, I do believe, and killed in 98, so that's 53 years in Nurmengard. It is said that they were teenagers when they met, and that Dumbledore had graduated. So i'm going to say that they were 17, or 18. And thus it was 1900 or 1901, because Gellert was born in 1883. Bam.
That's right. If you have any disagreements. Please just let it slide? Also, you don't know his name is Henry. Is that good? I'll write my reply around that if it is.))

((Grindy went to jail in 1945 and remained there until voldy killed him in 1998. so yes 53 years
They met in 1899 - the year grindy was expelled. Dumbledore was 18 grindy was 16

and thats cool that i dont know his name. ))

((I hate to interject, but I should probably say to add a certain sense of believability- a horcrux on retains the memories of the subject upon formation. All things taken into consideration, it would be highly doubtful that Grindelwald would have been able to create a horcrux from Nurmengard, suggesting that, if this initial theory is correct, that the Horcrux would have no knowledge of its own murder.

I cite as evidence the Journal of Tom Marvolo Riddle. Used as a horcrux during the end of his school years, the apparation brought about by the journal had little to no knowledge of events following its entrapment in the pages of the Diary.))

((Oh bugger. I had forgotten that it was Ginny who filled him in on all that, I thought that he'd retained the memories himself... bugger. Ok. Will Thaor please edit his post, I'll leave my entry one as is, as most of it was through thought anyway, and all were details he could have picked up. Post-ressurrection. Voldemort did remember things from death though, did he not?))

((Not from my understanding. His own death had to be reported to him through Ginny Weasley, even the news about Harry Potter. He had no idea when the other pieces of souls were destroyed. He cannot interact with the other Horcruxes, and appeared to live a rather transient lifestyle with little to no consciousness. Perhaps the horcrux in Voldemort's pet snake (his literal snake, of course) could have been able to see and remember, but that was through a snake's brain, rather than the memories retained in his soul. Hence, the memories would not be able to be utilized properly once said horcrux returns to a human form. Other than that, there is little chance that Voldemort experienced death, as each incarnation never truly died- it was merely suspended in limbo, which would explain his description.))

Gellert... Henry, stood staring into the fire for a few more minutes. He liked fire, it was like a brain at work. The unpredictability, the ever-changing nature of it, and the passive-aggressive nature of it. Yes, fire made for a good thinking tool, each lick of flame being a new train of thought. It suited himself brilliantly.

However he had questions to answer, he was listening, of course, he always was, he just wasn't paying attention. "Well, Albus Dumbledore and I met in 1899. Albus was 16, and I was a year and a half older, 18." He said, in response to the abnormally personal, and rude question. Nevertheless, it was merely a memory, it had little significance to his self, so answering was probably the fastest, easiest way to plough through this.

He did, however have to reign himself in. He was greater than this man, as an individual, that was for certain, however Gellert was not an idiot, he knew that this man held more influence, and that being completely dismissive and antagonistic would serve no purpose. So cooperating was definitely the best chance of success here.

With a slightly warmer demeanour, he turned from his thoughts, and the fire, to face Thaor. "Trick question," he said in response to the last question. "You and I both know that I could not have made a Horcrux while I was in Nurmengard, and few people seem to know when I... well, when I died, presumably because of the success of my fortress, which ultimately resulted in my own demise," He said with a shadow of a smile. "However, I think it was at least... 30 years, I do not know however, and If I did know, and I were in your boots, I would be all the more cautious of an impostor." He told Thaor, realising the confusing nature of what he had said, but neglecting to further explain, at test, in its own right.

"But this is all in the past, I do believe that more important things lay in front of us," he said, pausing, before crossing the room quickly to stand before Thaor. "My name, as you know, is Gellert Grindelwald, and I have a proposition for you. For now, however, for both our sakes, I ask that you refer to me as Henry Windsor. A name, if you follow, has a very funny meaning in my opinion." He said, this time a true, however cynical, smile appeared following what he said. "Mr Wake, I trust you can fill our associate here in on the details?" he prompted, putting his hands in his pockets, and turning his attention to Alan.