The Serpent

Having returned to Britain after receiving Minerva's letter, Harry was at a loss at what he should do. He knew that he needed to speak with Minerva but doing so whilst the revelation was fresh, and he was overwhelmed, could prove to do more harm than good.

Thus, he had arrived at his house, his emotions still hard to decipher.

Harry was exhausted from a full day of defending their position, the smell of war was upon him, and he needed just a little time to come to terms with what he had been told.

Before speaking to Minerva, he needed a clear head.

Still, the only thing he could focus on was that he was going to be a father.

The thought was terrifying as it was exciting, and though Charlus, Arcturus, and the others had insisted it was a good thing, it was not them that now had to face the prospect of fatherhood that had not been planned.

Of course, Harry certainly did not blame Minerva, nor would he change anything that had happened between them, but he was not so foolish to ignore that the timing was rather poor.

As he stepped into the shower and revelled in the feeling of hot water beating down on his tired, aching body, he realised what it was that made him hesitate in experiencing the same joy as the others had.

He was scared.

Harry had known fear throughout his life, but nothing like this.

Being a father was not something he had ever considered much, but when he did, it wasn't whilst the world was in the throes of war, or a time that he wouldn't be there to raise his son and daughter.

It seemed that life had other ideas for him, a thought that elicited a sigh from the young man.

The timing wasn't right, and he was scared of the unknown to come, but he would do as he always had when facing adversity.

He would take it in his stride and do whatever he could to make it work, for him, for Minerva, and for the baby they were bringing into this world.

An unwitting smile crested his lips.

Harry had never had a family to call his own, but soon, he would have, and though the circumstances could be more favourable, the thought warmed him, nonetheless.

Stepping out of the shower, he felt calmer than he had, though there was no shifting the sense of trepidation he felt in its entirety.

This would be a new challenge for him, something he had no experience of whatsoever.

Where did someone even begin taking care of a baby?

Harry hoped Minerva was not as clueless as him.

He knew of the basics; the feeding, changing nappies, and the like, but he was undoubtedly lacking knowledge of the plethora of other things a child needed.

Once more, he felt a wave of uncertainty crash over him.

Could he really do this?

He snorted humourlessly.

Despite any reservations or doubts he had, it would happen in the near future and as ill-prepared as he was for such a thing, nothing would change that.

Having pondered his own thoughts on the matter, his mind wandered to Minerva and his stomach tightened at how she must be feeling.

She had admitted to being scared in her letter, something Harry could certainly relate to, but for Minerva, it would be different.

Harry shook his head as he released a deep breath.

Above everything he felt and what the two of them faced, what plagued him the most was uncertainty, and the only thing that would resolve that would be to speak to Minerva and the two of them would have to figure everything out from there.

Checking his watch, he realised he had whiled away a number of hours through his own musings, so seeing Minerva would have to wait until the morning.

It would be a Saturday which would give them the weekend to discuss what they would do, but until then, Harry needed to rest.

After his efforts over the past few months and the news he'd received earlier this evening, he was physically and mentally exhausted, and though he was certain he would get little sleep with everything that was on his mind, he knew he needed to at least try.

Tomorrow would likely be a trying day for him and Minerva, and it would not do to approach it without a clear head and somewhat rested body.

(Break)

Night after night since Eleanor had arrived in Berlin, she had witnessed man battling all manner of beasts, some of the former willing, but those that weren't had merely been sent to die for the entertainment of the crowd.

None of the prisoners had been given their wands to defend themselves, despite what creature they were delivered to. Eleanor had seen a Spaniard attempt to fight a transformed werewolf with a sword, a Belgian given a pitchfork to fend off a vampire, and a Fin armed with a slingshot whilst he did battle with a particularly vicious hag.

The results of these bouts were never in question, and no bets were taken for them.

These prisoners were here to be butchered, and those that willingly fought for either gold or the thrill were treated much differently.

These men, and even a few women, were allowed to use their wands, and the clashes were much more evenly matched.

Not that Eleanor experienced any joy from watching them. No, she was here to do a job, and much to her relief, she had quickly identified the man who was in charge of this macabre arena.

Judging by his accent, he was a local man, heavily scarred, with a shaved head, and a malicious gaze.

There was no doubt in her mind that he enjoyed what he did here, and he certainly made large sums of gold from doing so.

Where he obtained the creatures, Eleanor could not fathom, but every night he had provided a variety of them, more prisoners, and even more willing participants.

She watched as he entered the pit at ten pm, something she learned was habitual.

The man would arrive, inspect the pit itself, and smoke endless cigarettes as he pored over stacks of parchment whilst drinking Firewhiskey.

Around an hour later, the crowd would begin to file in and were handed programmes that listed the scheduled fights for the evening. They would mingle, place bets with the bald men, and then the entertainment would begin.

From what Eleanor had observed so far, twenty bouts would take place with a short interval between each to cleanse the pit of blood, corpses and any other debris that had accumulated.

When the evening came to an end and the crowd left, the bald man would count his coffers before taking his leave.

The operation ran like clockwork, tonight, however, another man arrived before the punters, one that was oddly familiar.

It took Eleanor a few moments to remember where she had seen him, and her stomach sunk when she realised it was Harry that had shown her a photograph of the man.

Hans Gaulitier.

He and the bald man evidently knew each other well, both smiling as Gaulitier entered the pit and embracing one another familiarly.

"I was not expecting you, old friend," the bald man said curiously.

"I was in the area," Gaulitier replied with a shrug. "With Gellert away, I have been sent to inspect our defences. The ICW are making up too much ground."

"You do not seem so concerned."

Gaulitier snorted.

"The ICW do not have enough men to win," he replied confidently. "Gellert will be returning with more."

"That is why he is away?"

Gaulitier nodded.

"He wishes to recruit more," he explained. "We're winning, but it is better to be sure."

"And what if you do not win?"

Gaulitier scowled at his companion.

"Losing is not an option," he murmured, "but if the worst was to happen, I have secured my future already."

The bald man laughed.

"You always were prepared."

Gaulitier nodded.

"It would be foolish not to be, but Gellert will not lose. There is no one that can stop him."

"What about Evans?" the bald man questioned.

Gaulitier shook his head.

"Evans is little more than a boy," he said dismissively. "I admit, he is causing more problems than I envisioned, but Gellert will catch up with him soon enough, and when he does, Evans will not survive the encounter."

"The Serpent?"

Gaulitier frowned irritably.

"A coward who hides in the shadows," he grumbled. "He uses tricks to instil fear and only attacks when it is to his benefit. He will die also."

"I hope you're right," the bald man sighed. "If Grindelwald loses, we'll all be for it. The ICW we hunt us down like dogs."

"With what?" Gaulitier chuckled. "The hit-wizards are no more."

"This is true," the bald man conceded, "but I have a bad feeling about all of this."

"Do not worry," Gaulitier comforted, "the setbacks are only temporary."

The other man did not appear to be convinced but he didn't comment further on the matter.

"Are you staying for the show?"

"I wouldn't miss it," Gaulitier replied with a grin.

Eleanor had been warned not to approach the behemoth in any form, but to alert Harry if she came across him.

Now, she was undoubtedly out of her depth, but her work here was done, for now at least.

The bald man would be her target to track, and though it was unlikely he would meet with Weber, with how close Gaulitier was to Grindelwald, it was almost a given he could be used to lead Harry to him.

Still, it wouldn't be so straight forward.

It didn't appear as though Gaulitier and the bald man met often, but it was a start.

Before she committed herself to following the latter, she knew she had to alert Harry to her findings.

The task she was undertaking had been dangerous from the start, but with Gaulitier's apparent involvement, it had only become more so.

Pleased that there was no need for her to observe the violence tonight, she carefully took her leave of the bar and transformed in the alleyway.

Once she had sent a message to Harry, she would once more take advantage of the hotel across the street until he replied with what he wished for her to do.

Finally, Eleanor felt that she was making progress in uncovering who Weber was, and if fortune favoured her, the task could be concluded much sooner than she had been anticipating since she came to the German capitol.

(Break)

As expected, Harry hadn't gotten much sleep the night before, but he somehow felt calmer about the revelation of his impending fatherhood. Perhaps the initial shock had worn off, and with all the pondering he'd done, he was growing used to the idea.

He shook he head at the thought.

No, he wasn't getting used to the idea, which would take more time, but he had accepted the situation and knew he needed to approach his conversation with Minerva with consideration.

She had written in her letter that she was scared, and the last thing Harry wanted was to frighten her any more than she already was. She would need reassurance, and though he himself was rather clueless in such matters, he would do his best.

Having arrived at Hogwarts, he sent a patronus informing her he was on the grounds, and only a few moments later, he spotted her in the distance as she exited the castle and headed towards him.

The greeting he received was so unlike the last time he returned, this one reserved, her expression one of uncertainty as she stood before him evidently not knowing what to say or do.

Harry had never seen Minerva this way, and he found he didn't care for it.

With a wry smile, he closed the distance between them and carefully wrapped his arms around the woman, a gesture that saw her relax considerably.

"I didn't expect you to come with everything that's happening," she murmured. "I just needed you to know."

She was crying, the emotions she had been trying to keep in check pouring out through their embrace.

Harry released a deep breath before chuckling.

"Well, I'm here."

Minerva nodded into his chest, her hold on him tightening.

"Shall we go for a walk?" he suggested.

Minerva extracted herself from his embrace and nodded once more before the two of them headed towards the lake.

"What are we going to do, Harry?" she sighed.

"Well, by the sound of things, we're going to have a baby," he replied with a grin.

Minerva tutted, though she smiled.

"Thanks for clarifying the obvious," she muttered. "You know what I meant."

Harry snorted.

"The timing isn't ideal," he acknowledged, "but all we can do is make the best of it. The only things that concern me is the bloody war and making sure you're both okay."

"Nothing too troubling then," Minerva replied dryly.

"The war is a problem," Harry huffed, "but nothing else is. You and the baby will have everything you need. I'll make sure you can access my Gringotts account…"

"No, Harry, that's not what I meant."

"I know, but I don't think having a baby is cheap, so that's one less thing to worry about."

"You don't have to…"

Harry waved her off.

"I want to," he insisted gently. "We're in this together, and there's a chance that I won't be here at the start. There's no point denying it, and I'd rather know that you are both looked after."

Minerva muttered under her breath, but she didn't argue.

"You're not alone in this," Harry sighed, taking her hand. "We'll do it together."

Minerva smiled, her eyes welling with tears once more before she wiped them away.

"Thank you," she whispered gratefully.

"For what? You didn't think that I'd leave you to do deal with this on your own, did you?"

"No," Minerva denied, "but I didn't know what else to think."

Harry gave her a comforting smile despite his own worries.

"Who else knows?"

"My mum, and Poppy," Minerva answered. "I had to tell Albus, and Armando too."

Harry nodded his understanding.

"Not your father?"

"No, I haven't told him yet," Minerva sighed. "I don't know how he will take it."

"We should tell him," Harry urged. "He's going to be a grandfather."

"I know," Minerva conceded.

"Should we do it together? I could always obliviate him if it goes wrong."

"You're not obliviating my father!" Minerva huffed.

Harry grinned.

"It was just a thought."

Minerva frowned, though she couldn't hide the hint of amusement in her eyes.

Silence fell over them for several moments as they gazed across the lake, both lost in their own thoughts.

"Where are you going to live?" Harry asked. "You can't raise a baby in the castle."

"My mum has said I can stay there."

"Is that what you want?"

Minerva shrugged.

"I've not thought that far ahead," she answered honestly. "None of it seems real. I don't think it will until the baby is here."

Harry nodded his agreement.

"You'll want to be close to your parents, won't you?" he asked. "I don't know how old a baby has to be before it can be apparated, taken by portkey, or taken through the floo. I don't really know anything about babies. Bloody hell."

And that was the reality he faced.

Harry had never had younger siblings or even been around small children much. He had no idea how to care for a baby, and yet, he was going to be a father.

"It's scary, isn't it?"

Minerva's question pulled Harry from his thoughts. The daunting truth of what was to come having truly sunk in now, and the worries that suddenly plagued him were reflected in Minerva's own terrified gaze.

"Have you ever changed a nappy?" he asked.

Minerva shook her head.

"No, but my mother has been sending me books about those kinds of things," she replied. "We have time to learn, Harry. We don't have to know everything."

"I don't know anything," Harry muttered.

"But you will," Minerva assured him.

Harry nodded uncertainly.

"I might need to borrow some of those books."

Minerva grinned as she rubbed his arm soothingly.

"We will be okay, won't we?"

"We have to be," Harry snorted. "We have a baby to think about."

"Is it wrong that I'm a little excited?" Minerva asked, her hand trailing over her slightly swollen stomach. "I know we didn't plan this, but now it's happened. It just feels like it is something really special."

The sight of her nursing her small bump filled Harry with something he'd never felt before. It was an overwhelming affection and the need to protect her and their child.

It was odd, but not unwelcome.

"Can I?" he requested.

Minerva smiled as she took his hands and placed them on her stomach and the feeling only intensified.

"Poppy says it's strong and healthy," she explained. "It might even be born close to your birthday."

The thought brought a smile to his own lips before it faded as he frowned.

"I need you to do something for me."

"What?" Minerva pressed.

Harry released a deep breath.

"We won't be able to keep this a secret," he pointed out. "When you're not in the castle, I need you to keep a low profile. With my position, someone could try to use this to get to me."

"Grindelwald?" Minerva whispered worriedly.

Harry nodded.

"I'd like you to find a house, close to your parents, and I will put as many protections on it as possible."

"Do you think it is necessary?" Minerva asked.

"Maybe not," Harry acknowledged, "but Cassiopeia Black has already proven she can get into Britain. It wouldn't take much for him to do the same."

Minerva's nostrils flared.

"If he comes anywhere near me…"

"I know," Harry placated, "but let's not take that risk. Please, do what I'm asking. However much gold it costs, it doesn't matter."

Minerva relented after a moment with a sigh.

"Thank you," Harry said gratefully. "I don't want you to be a prisoner but be careful. I'd never forgive myself if anything happened to you."

"Us," Minerva corrected.

"Both of you," Harry agreed.

Minerva took his hand and gave it a gentle squeeze.

"We're really going to do this, aren't we?"

Her tone was almost hopeful, as though she was seeking just a little more reassurance from him.

"We are," Harry confirmed, "but I think we should tell your father before we do anything else, don't you?"

(Break)

The warmer climate of the far east was a welcome change to the dreary weather that plagued much of Europe during the winter months. At the behest of Weber, Gellert had ventured to Vietnam, Indonesia, and Korea already, each trip proving to be successful in his recruitment plans.

He now found himself in Thailand, a country that had vested interests for both sides of the conflict with regards to the muggles, and Gellert was here to exploit that to win some followers to his side.

The question really came down to if the natives would prefer to side with the Japanese, their Asian brethren, or France and Britain who already held territories close to their own.

This was the very question he had asked of the crowd he'd managed to gather in the magical district of Bangkok who had been very suspicious by his arrival but were now being won over by his promises and visions of a world where they need not fear their land being taken from them or occupied by foreigners.

"It seems that you are winning them over," Niran, Weber's contact informed him approvingly. "My people are stubborn, but I believe they will see sense. It may take a little time, but I would consider this to be a good outcome for you."

Gellert nodded gratefully.

He had added 2,000 more men to his cause; followers that he would need in the coming months to ensure he could keep a firm grasp on the countries he had brought into the fold.

"Then you have my thanks for assisting me," he replied with a smile, offering Niran a polite bow before heading towards the hotel he was currently residing in.

The humidity here was almost unbearable, and Gellert would be pleased to leave the country behind, and even more so with the knowledge that his efforts had born fruit.

Perhaps he would head somewhere a little cooler next?

He would need to consult the list provided to him by Weber to plan his next move, but Gellert was hopeful for an alternative climate.

"Mr Grindelwald," the receptionist called as Gellert entered the lobby. "A letter arrived for you whilst you were out."

He accepted the envelope and returned to his room where there was little reprieve from the heat.

With a wave of his wand, Gellert created a blast of cooler air that circulated the room and sat on the edge of the bed whilst he unfolded the sheet of parchment within the envelope.

Gellert,

The Ukraine is in danger of falling into enemy hands.

They are now occupying a fortress within the border and any attempts made to remove them have failed.

How would you wish to proceed?

I need not remind you of the importance the land holds.

W

Gellert sighed irritably.

Occupying the Ukraine meant that there was a large threat to the Russian border, meaning that although they had dedicated troops to the ICW forces, Gellert still held something over them.

Without the presence of his men in the neighbouring territory, the Russians just might become a little bolder than they already were.

Gellert knew not what he could expect from them, but he did not wish to find out.

He had managed to partially neutralise the enormous country, but without any lingering threat, the neutrality could well be abandoned.

That could not be allowed.

He snorted at the irony of the situation he faced.

He'd wished to visit a cooler climate than the ones he'd found himself in recently, and he soon would, but it would come courtesy of a reluctant return to Europe and not by continuing with his current efforts.

(Break)

Dinner with her parents had not been an awkward affair since before Minerva had reconciled her differences with them, but there was a noticeable tension at the table this evening.

Her father wasn't a fool, and more than once he had been on the cusp of acknowledging it before he evidently thought better of doing so, though his gazed flitted between Minerva and her mother questioningly.

The latter was shooting the occasional pointed look at Minerva who found that she didn't know how to broach the subject she needed to discuss with her father, and Harry did his best to keep the conversation flowing.

Minerva smiled as he squeezed her hand under the table.

He had accompanied her to Diagon Alley to make arrangements with Gringotts to allow her access to his account, and even insisted on enquiring about employing the services of a house-elf.

Minerva had been against the idea, but when Harry had mentioned hiring private security for her, she had relented and compromised on an elf that would assist her with the baby and even keep them both safe.

How a house-elf was meant to accomplish that, Minerva had no idea, but Harry had assured her the little creatures were highly underestimated.

The reminiscent grin he'd given her when explaining suggested he knew from experience of a house-elf's capabilities.

In truth, Minerva was overwhelmed by Harry's attentiveness and hadn't expected so much from him.

All she had hoped for was that he wouldn't be angry with her, and that he would support her in raising the baby.

Already he was going above and beyond to do so much more, and Minerva couldn't be more grateful for how he was handling it, despite how nervous he was.

She squeezed his hand back as she turned her attention to her father once more who was eying her curiously.

"Out with it, lass," Robert sighed. "This atmosphere is making me very uncomfortable."

Minerva swallowed deeply.

"I'm pregnant," she replied simply.

Her father's eyes widened before he looked from Minerva, to Harry, and to his wife before he settled on staring at his daughter.

"Well, I didn't expect that," he murmured.

"Are you angry with me?"

Robert released a deep breath as he shook his head.

"No, I'm not angry," he assured her. "I've learnt that your world is different from mine, but I would have liked you to be married before you had a baby."

Her father was disappointed, and that hurt more than his anger would have.

"I think I'm going to get some air," Robert declared as he stood and took his leave of the room.

"He will get over it," Isobel sighed. "It's a shock for him, just as it was for me."

Minerva nodded.

"I could still obliviate him," Harry offered.

"You will do no such thing!" Minerva growled, her nostrils flaring as Harry smirked.

"Fine," Harry huffed. "I'll speak to him instead."

"No magic," Minerva warned as Harry followed her father.

"You don't think he would obliviate him, do you?" Isobel asked.

Minerva shook her head.

"No, he wouldn't do that," Minerva snorted.

Isobel breathed a sigh of relief.

"Would you like some cake?"

"I think the little one would," Minerva replied.

"Are you craving sweet things?"

Minerva looked towards the door to make sure Harry, nor her father were returning.

"Keep this to yourself, but I'm really craving treacle tart," she grumbled. "If Harry found out, he'd never let me hear the end of it."

Isobel smirked as she removed a dessert from the oven.

"I did make this for Harry, but he doesn't have to know about it," she said as she placed the tart in front of Minerva. "Would you like some custard with that?"

Minerva shook her head, her mouth already full of pastry, her uncharacteristic devouring eliciting an amused laugh from her mother.

"If only he could see you now," she mused aloud.

(Break)

As had become the norm when they found themselves under attack, the offensive from Grindelwald's men came suddenly, though Charlus and the rest of the men hunkered down in their makeshift fortress were given enough warning by the caterwauling charms to take up their positions.

This attack, however, was unlike the others they'd faced.

Up until now, Grindelwald's forces had been probing at the defences, many falling victim to them along the way, but there was no such hesitance this time around, and the numbers the men of the ICW faced could only mean their enemies were determined to evict them.

The spells came thick and fast, and undoubtedly from hundreds of casters, the defences erected by Harry, Charlus, and Arcturus being pushed close to their limits.

"They won't hold," Arcturus predicted, taking aim through one of the advantageous windows and firing a searing curse.

The scream that followed spoke of the man's accuracy.

Charlus couldn't help but agree with the Lord Black's assessment.

Their defences were good, but nothing could stand against the onslaught they found themselves subjected to.

"Bloody hell, the bastards really want us out, don't they?" Gilbert growled, wiping away the sheen of perspiration that had formed on his brow.

Once more, Charlus could find no fault in the words of his comrade.

"PETR?" he called.

The Russian offered him a grim look as he shook his head.

"WE HOLD!" he replied simply.

Charlus nodded before joining the others, unleashing a barrage of spells towards a group of men converging on his position.

"How many are there?" Yaxley questioned irritably.

"Too many," Arcturus answered.

Nonetheless, the group continued defending their position, digging their heels in as they refused to be dislodged.

Charlus could not be sure what happened, but one moment, he was fending off attackers, and the next, he found himself looking up at the ceiling with the wind knocked out of him and his ears ringing painfully.

He groaned as he pushed himself to his feet to see Arcturus, Yaxley, and Gilbert in a similar state, each looking around in confusion as they tried to catch their bearings.

"IT'S GRINDELWALD!" Petr announced worriedly.

Charlus rushed to the window, his anger flaring as he spotted the pale man stalking towards them in the distance, his wand a blur as he cast spells, undeterred by anything that was being sent his way.

"Bastard," Charlus growled, gritting his teeth as he added his own efforts into the mix.

These, Grindelwald could not ignore.

The ground around him was torn up in heaps of dirt and debris as Charlus did his utmost to slay the man that had killed his father, his fury quite the sight to behold as he sent forth a barrage of magic that would tear the Dark Lord limb from limb.

Still, Grindelwald advanced, and though he was not close enough to discern his expression, it would not take him long to reach them.

"What are you doing?" Yaxley asked Gilbert who had cast a patronus.

"I sent for Evans," the man explained.

"We can handle it!" Charlus snapped.

"I panicked!" Gilbert defended.

It was an understandable reaction.

Everyone gathered within their fortress had seen what Grindelwald was capable of when Moody had confronted him whilst they still defended France, and as Charlus looked towards the groups dotted around, their outright fear could not be ignored.

Even so, he could hold off Grindelwald, and as Arcturus stood at his side, his own features furrowed in a deep scowl, Charlus took some comfort that he would not be doing so alone.

Together, they did what they could to keep the man at bay, but it was the appearance of the seemingly endless stream of men that continued pouring towards them that made their task all but impossible.

Grindelwald may have been approaching them in an almost casual manner and with no urgency, but his followers sprinted, their wands being brought to bear as they rained spells down on the position.

Although Charlus wished to focus on only Grindelwald, he couldn't with so many others needing to be put down before they could swarm and surround the fortress.

"Bollocks!" Arcturus growled when he realised their combined effort was yielding no result.

Despite everything thrown at him, Grindelwald drew ever closer.

It was when the man was little more than a few hundred feet away that he paused as a gout of golden flame erupted in front of him and burned brightly for several seconds.

"Did you do that?" Arcturus questioned.

Charlus shook his head and cursed under his breath as the fire exploded, shooting out several smaller flames that engulfed several of Grindelwald's followers.

The Dark Lord himself managed to defend himself from the attack, but as the flaming men flailed and stumbled around, the light given off left no mistake who it was that had caused the carnage.

(Break)

He found Robert in the back garden staring into nothingness, the sun having set hours before. He didn't seem to be angry or even irritated by the revelation; more thoughtful than anything else.

At Harry's approach, Robert deflated.

"It's a lot to take in," he sighed. "It's strange because my time with Minerva went from her being a little girl leaving our home to attend a school I knew nothing about, to her returning as a woman. Is it odd that I still see her as that little girl?"

Harry shook his head.

"No," he comforted, "but she is an adult, and she may do things you do not approve of, but these things are her choices to make."

Robert nodded.

"I'm not angry," he assured Harry. "I'm not even disappointed really. When Minerva came back for the summer after her first year at school, I noticed the changes. She wasn't as invested in the church as she had been. How could she be when our own teachings paint what she does as being the devil's work?"

Harry would not pretend to be an expert on religion, but it seemed that Robert had spent the past two decades since he found out about magic at odds with himself over his own beliefs and what his wife and daughter were.

To the bible he held so closely to his heart, Minerva and Isobel were vessels of everything he stood against, and yet, he loved them both dearly.

It was a difficult position for one so devout, but he had not turned his back on either of them.

"I suppose the war has a strange effect on people," Robert chuckled. "It's hard not to notice it, even here. The confessionals have become rather more popular, lad, and some of what I'm told is rather scandalous. It's no surprise Minerva didn't wait until she was married. With you actively fighting, I don't suppose there was any promise you would see each other again. What an awful place the world has become."

"It has," Harry agreed, "and I think Minerva would appreciate hearing this from you. Telling you has been the thing that has worried her the most. Her not wanting you to be disappointed in her should tell you all you need to know how much you mean to her."

Robert nodded as he released a deep breath.

"Aye, lad, you're not wrong."

He turned to head back into the house before pausing suddenly.

"You will look after them both, won't you?"

"With my life," Harry vowed.

Robert snorted amusedly.

"I didn't even need to ask, did I?"

Harry shook his head as he followed the man back into the kitchen where Minerva and Isobel were still seated at the table now nursing cups of tea in their hands, the former looking worriedly towards her father as he entered.

Without saying a word, Robert lifted his daughter out of her chair and wrapped his arms around her, eliciting a sigh of relief from Isobel.

"How long?" he asked.

"July," Minerva answered.

Robert smiled as he nodded.

"A summertime blessing it is then," he murmured. "What do you need us to do?" he asked as he released her, gesturing between himself and Isobel.

"Just be there," Minerva answered. "I'd like our baby to know that it has its grandparents around."

Robert smiled as he nodded.

"Will you be staying with us?"

Minerva huffed good-naturedly as she looked towards Harry.

"Because it would be difficult for you to travel to Wales where Harry lives, he's insisting on buying a house nearby so I won't be far away. I just have to find a suitable one."

"I'd like to help with that," Robert declared. "I can pay towards a deposit…"

"We won't need money," Harry cut in gently. "The gesture is appreciated, but we have more than enough," he assured the man, "but you could always help with a cot or a pram," he added, seeing that Robert was determined to help in some way.

"We can do that," he agreed readily. "Wow, I'm going to be a granddad. We should celebrate. Not you, Minerva, whiskey won't be good for the baby."

Harry chuckled as he took a seat and Robert removed a bottle of liquor from one of the cupboards.

"Do I smell treacle?" he asked, sniffing the air.

"No, you must be mistaken," Isobel answered quickly, grinning at her daughter.

Harry looked between the two women, his eyes narrowed suspiciously.

"No, I definitely smell treacle," he declared. "It's like my birthday all over again," he added accusingly as Minerva licked her lips.

"It was only a small tart," she defended.

"And you didn't even save me a little bite?"

Minerva shook her head as she grinned.

"Not this time."

Any response that Harry had was cut off when Robert yelped in surprise, his bottle of whiskey shattering on the kitchen floor as he stared at the ethereal squirrel that had arrived.

"Harry, Grindelwald is here," the voice of Gilbert spoke.

Any merriment that he felt vanished immediately, and Harry stood as he flicked his wand into his hand.

"Harry?" Minerva questioned worriedly.

"I have to go, but I'll be back as soon as I can," he promised.

Minerva swallowed deeply, nodding as Harry gave her a reassuring smile before he whispered to his wand.

Only a second later, he felt the heat of the flames engulf him and he quickly found himself in the heat of battle and enemies charging towards him.

Walking purposely was Grindelwald, and without hesitation, Harry struck, the flames that had brought him here exploding outwards and setting more men than he could count alight.

His eyes were focused on one man only, and as their gazes met across the open field, Harry knew he had the undivided attention of his foe.

There were no words to share, as they both struck without preamble, the ground trembling as their spells met in mid-air.

Grindelwald's followers that remained standing gave the duo a wide berth, a fortuitous stance to take as Harry and Gellert recklessly parried, casting with what most would consider to be reckless abandon as they attempted to destroy one another.

(Break)

Arcturus looked on, dumbfounded by the display of magic he was witnessing, steadying himself as another collision of spells caused the ground to rumble in protest.

He knew Evans was powerful, and had faced off with Grindelwald himself, but what he was seeing between the two of them was akin to what one would read of in a work of fiction.

The speed with which they moved, the grace and poise, and the deadliness they struck with was a sight to behold, and Arcturus could only watch as the fight unfolded before him.

"What are you doing, Potter?" he asked as Charlus seemingly shook himself from a similar stupor and began walking towards the door.

"We have to help him!" Charlus replied firmly.

Arcturus shook his head.

"You'll get yourself killed if you go out there," he warned, "or Evans for that matter. Best to let them get on with it. Evans won't thank you for intervening."

Charlus appeared to be torn and was startled as Petr clapped him on the shoulder.

"Have faith, comrade," the Russian urged.

Charlus nodded reluctantly and turned his attention back to the fight.

Arcturus followed suit, all thoughts of taking the position seemingly abandoned by Grindelwald's men.

The duel continued earnest, neither man able to negate the defence of the other as the poked and probed with various spells, but it was Grindelwald that landed first.

Arcturus didn't know what Evans had been hit with, but he physically recoiled, and Grindelwald looked at him curiously before they pressed on with their magical game of chess.

Whatever Evans had been hit with began to affect him, his accuracy beginning to suffer slightly the more the fight went on, but it did not deter him.

If anything, he became the aggressor, his wand little more than a blur as he sought an advantage, though it was clear Grindelwald was beginning to get the better of the exchange.

If Harry didn't change his tactics soon, it was only a matter of time before he fell victim to something much worse than he was already experiencing.

Grindelwald seemed to sense this and began pushing back with his own offense, no longer content with how the fight was proceeding.

"Fucking hell!" Gilbert gasped as Grindelwald sent a veritable tidal wave of dirt and debris towards Harry who reacted quickly, his spell pulling it into an enormous column that coiled protectively around him.

After the briefest hesitation, a loud hissing sounded and the column reared up, taking on the form of a cobra.

Grindelwald was stunned, his eyes wide almost fearfully as the serpent hurtled towards, spitting large rocks from its open maw.

Immediately, the Dark Lord found himself on the backfoot, retreating as he banished the projectiles aside, only to have to sprint as more snakes, smaller in stature, formed and struck at him from all angles.

Not content to allow the man any semblance of peace, Harry began casting once more, wielding his wand as though it was a conductor's baton as he directed a symphony that sang only of death.

The serpent continued to strike, seemingly from nowhere as spell after spell was sent towards the retreating Grindelwald until Harry broke out into a sprint and was engulfed in a golden fire.

Arcturus balked as the flaming man jumped into the air and somehow flew into the open mouth of the cobra he had created.

With Harry held firmly, and the flames pooling out of its eyes, it struck once again.

Grindelwald dived to the side to avoid the blow, though he did not do so unscathed.

Desperately, he scrambled to snuff the fire that had caught his robes, unleashing a scream of pain before shooting a baleful glare at the poised cobra and vanishing as it lunged a final time.

"Did you just see that?" Gilbert whispered, breaking the silence that had fallen.

"We all saw it, Gil," Yaxley replied.

The remainder of Grindelwald's followers followed the lead of the man they fought for, all vanishing within seconds of each other, none willing to face Harry Evans.

Arcturus simply shared a look of disbelief with Charlus as Evans emerged from the flames, his furious cursing loud enough for all to hear, his appearance becoming only more sinister as a snake dark, smoky snake with fiery eyes emerged from within him and hissed its displeasure.