For the Fallen

There was something sickening about the mood Gaulitier was in after he'd been in a fight. He always took to drink after to celebrate, the alcohol only serving to amplify his uncharacteristic joviality.

An optimist would assume he drunk to forget what it was he'd done, but Cassiopeia knew better.

Amongst other unpleasant acts, Hans Gaulitier enjoyed killing, relished the suffering of others at his hands; man, woman, or child, it mattered not to the German.

Cassiopeia found him repulsive, but she understood why Gellert kept him around.

Gaulitier was useful to complete the tasks that required someone who had no objection to getting their hands dirty.

Not that it meant she had to respect him.

For the most part, Cassiopeia had little to do with the man, something for which she was certainly not going to complain about.

"Is it safe to assume that things have gone well in my absence?" she asked Gellert.

"Very much so," the man replied cheerily. "We made quite the lasting impression on the enemy. And for you?"

Cassiopeia nodded.

She had been in Japan the past few weeks to look in on Sato and to ensure he was readying his men to join Gellert's.

He was, and she had taken the opportunity to explore the far east.

She had never been to Asia before, and from what she had seen, she would not be returning any time soon.

For all the beauty that part of the world had to offer, there was just as many problems there as there were in the west.

"Sato expects that his men will be ready when they are needed."

"Good," Gellert replied satisfactorily. "They will be most welcome. Every day that goes by, we get closer to breaking the enemy's will. By the time they arrive, there may well be little for them to do."

Cassiopeia hoped that was true.

Gellert had not allowed her near the fighting as yet, but she had still grown tired of it.

As much as the man she looked up to had adapted his strategy, it had never involved a drawn-out conflict.

He had hoped that more nations would cede to him when they knew that any effort to deny him would be fruitless.

Instead, he found himself facing a stubborn opposition, slowing his progress considerably.

"I think I will get some rest," she announced. "I have become accustomed to the Japanese time zone."

"Of course," Gellert allowed with a smile.

Cassiopeia made her way to the door of the study, only to pause as she felt Gaulitier's eyes burning into her.

She turned to look at him, her nose wrinkling in distaste as he leered at her.

"I met your brother," the German declared smugly. "He's got quite the temper on him."

"My brother?"

Hans nodded, his lips pulled tightly over his teeth from the width of his smile.

"He's fighting for the ICW," he informed her gleefully.

Cassiopeia's jaw tightened, but it was worry she felt.

What was Arcturus playing at?

"Don't worry, I didn't kill him this time, but I can't make any promi…"

"Crucio!" Cassiopeia hissed, her wand snapping into action before Gaulitier could finish his sentence.

The German fell from his seat and writhed on the floor, his screams of agony failing to satisfy Cassiopeia.

She wanted to hurt him, to kill him for threatening her little brother.

Despite their differences of opinion and that they had chosen opposing sides in the war, that was what Arcturus was.

He was the little boy that used to play with his toy Quidditch set in front of the fire, or bother her when she was in the library, asking her to teach him some of the family magic.

Gaulitier had no right laying his filthy hands on a Black.

"That is enough, Cass!" Gellert said firmly.

Reluctantly, Cassiopeia relented, and Gaulitier remained on the floor for several moments, his breathing laboured as he twitched uncontrollably.

Much to her surprise and annoyance, he began to laugh almost amusedly, though his arms trembled as he pushed himself to his feet.

"You're a sadistic bitch, Black," he growled, "but that is what I like about you. We're not so different."

Cassiopeia felt her wand torn from her grip as she attempted to retaliate, and she turned to glare at Gellert for interfering.

"You're tired," he insisted. "Go and rest. I will return your wand to you when you wake."

"And when you do, I'll kill him."

Gellert released a deep breath.

"I wish you wouldn't," he sighed, "but that is a matter to discuss later. Hans, you will apologise for goading her, now."

Gaulitier snorted, though his smirk remained in place.

"You have my apologies," he offered mockingly, "for not bringing you your brother's head. Next time, you will not be without it."

Cassiopeia narrowed her eyes at the man.

If she had her wand, she would strike him down where he stood.

"And then I will take yours," she vowed. "You will not lay your unworthy hands on a member of my family. We stand far above scum like you."

Gaulitier roared in laughter before baring his teeth menacingly.

"I look forward to the day you try," he replied.

"I will not tell either of you again!" Gellert snapped, his patience finally wearing thin. "You are on the same side."

Cassiopeia smiled sweetly at the German.

"One day, you will bite off more than you can chew. I look forward to seeing your comeuppance."

"But it will not be you that delivers it," Gaulitier replied mockingly.

Cassiopeia's nostrils flared before she stormed from the room.

Hans Gaulitier would one day reap what he had sown, and Cassiopeia had meant what she said.

She looked forward to bearing witness to his demise, and she only hoped he would suffer a cruel fate.

He deserved nothing less.

For now, however, she needed to know what Arcturus was thinking.

She knew that he was opposed to anyone in the family supporting Gellert, but to actively fight against her was something she would never think him capable of.

In truth, it saddened her.

She didn't want to fight Arcturus and had believed he would have remained neutral at worst.

Knowing he had chosen to fight against what she stood for filled her with dread.

Gellert would not be defeated, and he would kill any that stood in his way of his goals.

As gifted as Arcturus thought he was, he wouldn't stand a chance against her mentor in a duel, and if that was what he sought, she feared that he would meet his end soon enough.

"Stupid boy," she huffed to herself.

There was only one person who Arcturus might listen to, and though Cassiopeia knew she wouldn't we welcomed with open arms, for the sake of her brother, she had to try to make him see sense.

(Break)

The uniform he had been given was scratchy, the khaki green material having been pressed and starch to an unbearable degree of stiffness. Thankfully for Harry, after some light charms work it had become more pliable and softer to the touch, though he couldn't help but lament on how odd it was to have been given a tunic lined with dull, metal buttons, matching trousers, and leather boots.

It was not wizarding wear, but as Moody had rightly pointed out, robes were not the most comfortable garments to live in.

Harry had spent most of his life in clothing that didn't fit or was threadbare.

To him, the uniform was a vast improvement.

Still, other than charming it to be more comfortable, he had cast an array of spells on it to make it wieldier and more useful.

Even the boots had not been spared his efforts.

He could, however, do without the insignia of the ICW emblazoned in gold on the right arm and two stripes depicting his rank.

Not that Charlus could mock him for it, as much as Harry knew the man wanted to.

He may have only had a single stripe to his name, but their uniforms were identical other than this minor detail.

"Any luck?" he asked when the Potter lord entered the room.

"Not this evening, sergeant," Charlus replied, grinning as he saluted.

"Two stripes aren't even a sergeant," Harry muttered, making a mental note to himself to kick Gilbert when he saw him next.

Charlus waved him off dismissively before tsking a seat on his bunk.

"We're still no closer to working out who it is," he reminded Harry.

"I know," Harry sighed. "We'll get there."

Charlus nodded.

"We will," he agreed, "and hopefully before any other information is leaked."

"Then we will have to hope that whoever it is takes the bait."

"They won't be able to resist."

Harry and Charlus had been dropping random bits of information throughout the trench, making note of where they had mentioned each thing.

Their task was difficult enough but being able to pinpoint what information was being leaked and where would make it all the easier.

If Grindelwald or any of his followers found themselves in a spot of bother because of the trail they followed, then it would only be more satisfying.

Not that such a task would likely be so simple.

Whenever he or Charlus would were around, many conversations would suddenly stop as the men eyed them warily.

It wasn't necessarily that they were up to something they shouldn't be, or were even connected to the information being leaked, they merely became more interested in what Harry and Charlus were doing.

In truth, Harry wasn't entirely certain how successful they could be with their current tactics, something he needed to ponder if no results would be yielded in the coming days.

"Do you still need me to cover for you?" Charlus asked, his lighter mood darkening suddenly.

Harry nodded and Charlus shook his head.

"Why won't you let me go with you?"

"Because I need you to make excuses for me," Harry replied.

"Bollocks, we both know you could make it look like you were here if you wanted to."

Harry shrugged, deflating when Charlus did not relent with his questioning stare.

"I work alone in these things. If something goes wrong, that's on me, but I won't be responsible for getting someone killed, or them me. That's why I operated alone when I was active in the field."

Charlus nodded his understanding.

"It's not because I don't trust you or think that your incapable," Harry assured him. "It's because I don't trust the enemy and I know how capable they are."

"Alright, bloody hell there's no need to get all philosophical on me," Charlus snorted. "I'll cover for you."

"Thank you," Harry said appreciatively.

They fell silent for several moments until Charlus spoke once more, his tone one of curiosity, though he asked no questions.

"I don't know how you can do it, just kill people the way you do."

"Not just people, Charlus," Harry murmured, "enemies. I learned a long time ago that if you're not willing to do to them what they will to you, then you have already lost. I refuse to lose, because losing means much more than just being defeated or even dying. If we lose, everyone we care about loses. I'm not going to let that happen."

Charlus frowned thoughtfully before he nodded once more.

"We fight for those that cannot fight for themselves."

"What?" Harry questioned.

"Oh, it's something of a family motto," Charlus explained. "I suppose I didn't really grasp the meaning of it until now. Anyway, shouldn't you be off?"

Harry checked his watch and nodded before removing his wand and casting his usual concealment charms over himself.

"You'll know when I'm on my way back."

"How very mysterious," Charlus snorted. "Go on, bugger off and do what you have to."

All Charlus would have seen when Harry left was the opening and closing of the door to their room.

With his feet silenced and every trace of him concealed to the best of his ability, Harry went over the top of the trench and headed towards where the enemy would be settling down for the night, not that they would sleep peacefully.

Harry would make sure of that.

(Break)

Arcturus rolled the wand that belonged to Franklin Bones between his fingers, the magic emanating from it warm but cautious. It would not be wielded by him even were he to try, and the Lord Black would not insult the memory of his friend by even trying.

He snorted as he shook his head.

He hadn't known Franklin well before they'd been roomed together in the trenches.

They had met on numerous occasions over the years at typical pureblood events but had barely exchanged a polite greeting.

The Bones and Black family politics didn't exactly align, and though there was no bad blood between them, they didn't socialise beyond the expected protocols of greeting and paying respects to one another.

Arcturus couldn't help but ponder how war could changes things so much, how it could bring two people together in ways that nothing else could.

Since he'd arrived, he had shared a room with Bones, had gotten to know the man without the hindrance of politics or pureblood customs.

Here, they were just two men fighting for the same cause, and Arcturus had come to like Franklin.

They had come from similar backgrounds, and though they shared little more in common with one another than that, they understood each other, respected the beliefs of the families they came from and the tradition they were steeped in.

To think that they had only been speaking one moment, and Franklin was dead in the next was difficult to come to terms with, but it was a firm reminder as to what it was they faced.

Arcturus had been fortunate, whereas Franklin had fallen.

With a sigh, he placed the wand in the top compartment of his fallen friend's trunk a wrote out a simple but heartfelt message.

To the Bones Family,

In his last moment of life, Franklin asked me to return this to you.

I am deeply sorry for your loss.

Lord Arcturus Orion Black

A man proud to call Franklin Bones his friend.

He placed the note next to the wand before closing the lid.

Someone was due to collect it in the morning and send it home to the Bones, along with Franklin's body so that he could be buried as per the family way.

Although Arcturus was saddened by the loss of his friend, it was anger that burned through his veins at the thought of what happened.

Upon Franklin's death, Arcturus had found himself engaged in the fight of a lifetime against the enormous German, both men fighting with everything they had, Arcturus fuelled by the rage that had consumed him, his foe by the sheer enjoyment he experienced from killing.

It had been as thrilling as it was nerve-wracking, but when Grindelwald had instructed him to do so, the German had left, albeit reluctantly.

He had not fled due to cowardice.

Arcturus had no doubt the man would have fought until the bitter end for one of them, but he had simply followed orders.

With a grin that promised they would one day meet again, he had taken his leave, neither of them any worse for wear other than some minor cuts and bruise from the altercation.

Arcturus would see him again, and when the crossed wands once more, it would be with the intent of putting an end to the man that had butchered Franklin Bones.

He would never forget the raspy breathing, the sounds of his friend choking on his own blood whilst the final vestiges of life were drained from him.

It kept Arcturus awake at night, and often, he would swear he could still hear Franklin in his final throes of living.

Arcturus shuddered at the thought.

Those memories would haunt him for the rest of his days.

Releasing a deep breath, he placed Franklin's trunk neatly at the foot of his bunk.

He wouldn't be home for the funeral, but he made a note to himself to visit where the man would be laid to rest, to pay his respects to the friend that had fought side by side with him in the early days of the war.

"What the bloody hell is going on now?" he muttered to himself, hearing excited voices coming from the trench outside.

Curiously, he opened the door and found the rest of his group looking eagerly across no-man's-land where distant screams could be heard, and Arcturus joined them.

"What's happening?"

"Sounds like the bastards are getting a taste of their own medicine," one of his comrades answered.

Another scream sounded before being suddenly cut off.

"Is it him?" a young man of no more than eighteen questioned.

"Probably," the first agreed. "The Serpent doesn't take kindly to any of us being killed."

The Serpent.

Arcturus had heard of him from Cassiopeia when she came to visit, had even seen the elusive man mentioned in the media, and ever since he'd arrived here, he was often the talking point amongst the ICW forces.

The rumours about the mysterious figure that stalked Grindelwald's men ranged from the unsettling to the downright ridiculous.

Some would say that he was a man with the head of a basilisk, that if you looked into his eyes, you would drop dead.

Others that he was Salazar Slytherin reborn only to kill Grindelwald before resting once more.

Arcturus snorted at the thought.

Whoever The Serpent happened to be was a man, a cold, ruthless man that all should treat warily, but a man, nonetheless.

"What is that?"

Having heard the question, Arcturus looked towards where the enemy trenches were, a frown of curiosity creasing his brow.

What was that?

(Break)

It had taken Harry much longer to reach the enemy trenches. In the recent days that had passed, the defences had been changed and switched around, this time by someone much more skilled at concealing their work than he had become accustomed to.

Still, despite the challenge, he had breached them without alerting Grindelwald's men, and he once again found himself to be the proverbial cat amongst the pigeons.

He had set to work the moment he dropped into the section of trench he had chosen, and with some obscure charms he had discovered in the Flamel library, he ensured he would be able to complete his task.

The spells themselves were not so difficult to undo, but Harry doubted many knew of them. They may have once been common practice and had fallen out of favour, or the work of the man that created and shared it with the world never gained popularity.

Harry, however, appreciated their efforts, and the jellylike substance he formed into a dome would prove to be a challenge to overcome for any that didn't know what they faced.

That was a problem for Grindelwald's men to navigate.

Harry had his own work to do.

With his barrier in place, those slumbering within were only moments away from their lives being snuffed, an example to Grindelwald that there would always be reprisals for his actions.

The first of Harry's victims had not even woken, the conjured blade rammed through his sternum and into his heart killing him instantly.

The second was decapitated as he began to stir, but the dull thud if the falling head roused the third with enough time for him to scream.

He was silenced quickly, but others followed having been alerted to Harry's presence.

It was then that Harry had dropped all pretence of conducting a stealthy undertaking.

These men had crept into his trenches, had slaughtered men who were fighting for their right to freedom from a tyrannical man who believed his vision would be what was best for the world, and one he would see come to fruition by any means necessary.

These men he cut down one after the other were facilitating that madness, allowing other men, women, and children to be murdered for failing to comply with the wishes of a mad man.

All of them were culpable for that.

More screams sounded as Harry used the narrow nature of the trench to isolate his foes who had nowhere to run.

Some tried on both sides to blast their way through the barrier, but to no avail.

Blasting curses were absorbed like they were nothing, and the jelly remained, allowing Harry to pick off more and more men at a whim.

Another scream, this one louder and shriller than any other, yet another that was cut off suddenly as Harry dispatched of the man.

No more remained but those outside the barrier who had been attracted by the violence put upon them by the figure of death they had come to fear.

"I'll be seeing the rest of you," Harry vowed.

With a wave of his wand, the jelly exploded outwards, sending the men on the outside sprawling, and covered in a sticky liquid.

Before they could climb to their feet or offer a rebuttal, Harry was gone, already half-way across no-man's-land where he brought his wand to bear a final time.

More screams followed, though these were from surprise rather than pain, but the latter soon followed.

The victims spilled out of the trenches as they wrestled with the jelly that had burst into life and was attempting to throttle them, or simply suffocate them by covering their mouths and noses.

There was sheer panic, and in their state, many wandered into their own defences, triggering the traps meant for any ICW men that attempted to breach them.

Some of the men were impaled with spikes, some causing explosions that sent them dozens of feet into the air, and others found themselves cursed in ways that would see them suffer considerably if the effects were not reversed quickly.

Harry watched the chaos unfold for a few moments before continuing on his way towards his own trench where he managed to slip by the onlooking men of the ICW.

Justice had been done, and though these tactics would not put an end to the war, they served to remind Grindelwald and those that followed them that they would not obtain victory easily.

No, it would cost them lives, and eventually, there would be few remaining that were willing to sacrifice it all for the dreams and visions of another man.

From within his room, Harry heard the hiss of satisfaction sound across the battlefield, and with more work from himself, the legacy and reputation of The Serpent grew just that little more.

"Harry, you have to see this!" Charlus called, banging on the door.

"What is it?" Harry huffed when he opened it, rubbing his eyes tiredly and feigning that he had just woken up.

"Looks like The Serpent has been at it again," Gilbert explained gleefully.

Harry frowned as he followed the cunning man, Charlus, and Yaxley to the edge of the trench where he was shown the still unfolding drama.

"See!" Gilbert said excitedly.

Harry nodded appreciatively.

"No less than they deserve," he replied, squinting as an emerald fire burst into life, and the symbol of The Serpent filled the sky, illuminating the destruction that had been wrought across no-man's-land.

"Too right," Yaxley agreed, neither him nor Gilbert seeing the nod Charlus offered over the former's shoulder.

(Break)

St Mungo's was still playing host to the men injured in the latest bout of fighting on the front of the French/Belgian border, and Dorea spent most of her waking hours tending to them. She was already concerned for Arcturus and cursed his foolish pride daily for opting to sign up to fight against Grindelwald.

Being a healer only served to make her more anxious for her brother, the last remaining member of her family.

Day in and day out she witnessed the suffering of the men that were brought here; some burned, others with broken bones, and some missing limbs altogether.

These were unpleasant enough to behold, but they could be put back together for the most part. It was those that would suffer the effects of long-term damage through curses, and mental anguish that would never be the same.

The Janice Thickey ward already had another three patience, and that number would only increase the longer the war continued.

As much Dorea felt for all of them, she hoped beyond hope that Arcturus wouldn't become one of them.

"That's me done for the day," she announced to the senior healer on duty.

Artemis Carrow was an outcast of his family.

Having been sorted into Hufflepuff upon entering Hogwarts, he had been all but shunned, but he had made something of himself.

He was perhaps one of the best healers in the country and had even rubbed salt into the wounds he had caused the strictly traditionalist family he came from by marrying a muggle born.

Dorea was convinced he was somehow switched at birth because Artemis was a kind and caring man, the opposite to the rest of his vile relatives.

"Good work, Black," he praised, his smile as warm as ever. "I would like you to take tomorrow off…"

Dorea cut him off with a shake of his head.

"I'd much rather be here. It stops me thinking about Arcturus."

Artemis nodded his understanding.

"Alright," he agreed, "but I will be placing you on light duties for a day or two. We all need time away from the thick of it."

"Okay," Dorea relented.

Lighter duties in the hospital were preferable to being at home and alone with her thoughts.

"Good, now do you enjoy the rest of your evening."

"It's ten pm," Dorea pointed out.

"So it is," Artemis sighed as he checked the clock. "I suppose I should head home soon myself. Sarah won't sleep until I get there."

"Is she still insisting on a bedtime story every night?"

Artemis chuckled fondly as he nodded.

"We are reading Black Beauty," he explained.

Dorea frowned questioningly.

"Black Beauty?"

Artemis reddened around the ears slightly as he sputtered.

"It's not about your family," he explained hurriedly. "It's a muggle story about horses. Sarah loves them."

"I see," Dorea snorted amusedly, having wondered just what the man was talking about. "Well, you'd best not keep her waiting."

"No, I'd best not. Phillipa will not be happy if she's up much later. See you tomorrow, Black."

Dorea watched as the man rushed towards the male changing rooms before she took her leave from the thankfully quiet hospital and apparated home herself.

Grimmauld Place was lonely without Arcturus, but she found that she was not alone tonight.

"Who's there?" she asked cautiously as she drew her wand.

The fire in the kitchen had been lit, and Dorea had done nothing of the sort.

It was too hot this time of year to light a fire which meant that someone had travelled here via the floo network.

"So, it is true," the voice of her older sister cut through the sound of the crackling flames, "you did become a healer."

She was seated at the far end of the table, nursing a mug of tea between her hands as though there was no rift between her and the rest of the family.

"You've got some nerve," Dorea growled, fighting the urge to curse the woman. "What are you doing here?"

Cassiopeia took a sip of her tea before answering.

"This is my home, is it not?"

Dorea shook her head as she gritted her teeth.

"No, Cass, it isn't. I want you to leave."

Cassiopeia pouted petulantly.

"That's not a very nice way to treat your sister," she chided.

Dorea laughed, though there was no humour in it.

"You are in no position to judge anyone about how they treat family."

Cassiopeia's nostrils flared in irritation.

"Everything I have done is for this family!" she hissed.

"No," Dorea denied, "everything you have done you did for yourself. Because of you, Perseus got himself involved and was killed."

"By William Potter!"

"Which would not have happened if Perseus did not follow you when you decided to follow him. What happened to Perseus is his own fault for being a stupid prat, and it's your fault for taking him with you."

"He chose to come with me!"

"Because you filled his head with crap, and now he's dead!" Dorea spat.

Cassiopeia looked at her speculatively for a moment before leaning back in her chair.

"What happened to my shy, quiet little sister?" she asked.

"I grew up," Dorea snapped, "something you would have seen if you had stayed."

"With father how he was?"

"He was good enough for the last few years of his life," Dorea bit back.

Cassiopeia released a calming breath.

"I found something to believe in. I was not going to allow myself to be married off."

"As always, Cass, it's all about you," Dorea snorted. "Do you really believe in what Grindelwald wants for this world?"

"I do."

"Then you are more sadistic than I thought," Dorea replied disappointedly. "Do you know what I see every day? Men suffering because of Grindelwald, wives arriving at the hospital to identify their dead husbands because of what Grindelwald is doing. If that is what you believe in, then you need help."

"Sacrifices have to be made for the greater good," Cassiopeia returned, as though it was something she had parroted many times to herself.

"So, sacrificing Perseus was worth it?"

Cassiopeia scowled.

"What happened to Perseus was unfortunate, and despite what you think, I did not come here for myself, or for Gellert."

"Then why did you come, Cass? Guilty conscience?"

"I have nothing to feel guilty for!"

Dorea raised an eyebrow in her sister's direction.

"Maybe one day you will," she sighed. "I hope you feel every ounce of guilt for what you are helping with."

"I did not come here for a lecture! I came here to save Arcturus."

Dorea's mood and expression darkened; the name of her brother being spoken by Cassiopeia feeling like an insult.

"You need to convince him to come home and stay out of the fighting."

"I tried to convince him not to go," Dorea huffed.

"Then you need to try harder. He is going to get himself killed."

"Don't pretend you care, Cass, it doesn't suit you. The day you walked out on us, you proved what you cared about."

"For the love of Merlin, I'm trying to save his life!"

"He's fighting because of you!"

Cassiopeia fell silent at the angry retort and Dorea steadied her erratic breathing before continuing.

"He is fighting because you, Perseus, and father have ruined our family reputation. He's fighting because of what happened to Perseus because it is what is expected of him. He is fighting so that our family will not be looked down on when this is all over and Grindelwald has lost, because he will lose, Cassie. There have been men like him throughout History, and none of them have changed the world. Grindelwald will not do it either."

Cassiopeia shook her head almost disappointedly.

"You don't know him the way I do. Gellert will not be defeated."

"If you think that then you are blind, by what, I don't know, but he will lose. The world will not allow someone as dangerous as him to rule over it. Does he plan on killing everyone?"

"Gellert didn't want this!"

"But he isn't backing down, is he? He could put an end to the violence."

"And so could the ICW!"

"Now you are being delusional," Dorea huffed. "You have picked the wrong side, Cass, now you have to deal with the consequences."

Cassiopeia shook her head.

"I follow Gellert, and will until the end, but I don't want our family to suffer anymore than it has. Convince him to stop, Dorea."

"If you think I can, then you do not know our brother at all."

"Then he will die, and there's nothing I can do to save him," Cassiopeia replied almost sadly.

"You mean you have chosen Grindelwald over your own family," Dorea pointed out. "Just leave, Cass. You have made your bed, now you have to lie in it. I do hope you realise your mistakes before it is too late, or it is you that gets yourself killed."

"Like anyone could," Cassiopeia snorted.

"Harry Evans."

The mention of one man had Cassiopeia all but foaming at the mouth in rage.

Whether she was truly angry with Evans or herself for being bested by him twice, Dorea didn't know.

If she was honest with herself, she may share parents with the woman seated in front of her, but she didn't know Cassiopeia Black.

The teenage girl Dorea remembered had been ambitious, dedicated to her magic and duelling, and even quite sweet at times.

This woman before her was a stranger, the resemblance of the sister she knew in appearance only.

"Evans will get what he is due, as will any other who stands in our way," Cassiopeia vowed.

"Then there is nothing left to be said between us," Dorea returned pointedly.

Cassiopeia grinned as she nodded at her younger sibling.

"What happened to my shy little sister?" she asked as she stood. "Little Dorea was so sweet. Just like mum."

"Little Dorea is still a Black," Dorea answered simply, "and it is the Lord Black that has my loyalty."

"Even if it gets you killed?"

"I'd rather that than be subjected to what Grindelwald would have done to me."

"Gellert wouldn't harm you," Cassiopeia denied.

"Just like he doesn't harm anyone else who resists him."

Cassiopeia didn't have an answer to that, and Dorea felt a sense of satisfaction fill her.

There was nothing her sister could say that would change her mind, which would make her understand why she had thrown her lot in with Grindelwald.

With nothing else left to say, Cassiopeia swept from the room, and Dorea heard the fire flare into life only a moment later as she took her leave from Grimmauld Place.

Dorea took a deep breath, angered by Cassiopeia's stubbornness, but also saddened by the state of her family.

Before their mother had died, the Black siblings had been so close.

Now, Dorea couldn't help but think the rift that existed between those that remained may never be mended.

(Break)

"I trust that you have recovered from your ordeal?" Gellert questioned Hans as he entered the study.

The German waved him off dismissively.

"I have had worse from my mother."

"Cassiopeia Black is not your mother," Gellert pointed out. "You should not provoke her."

Hans laughed heartily.

"I will skull-fuck her," he declared.

"You will do no such thing!" Gellert snapped angrily, "What is it?"

Fortunately for Hans, a knock at the door had sounded, but the large man was certainly cowed by the outburst of the feared man he followed.

Gellert looked questioningly at Weber as he joined them, his expression quite grim.

"The Serpent paid a visit to our trenches tonight."

Gellert felt his hand twitch towards his wand at the mention of the man that was proving himself his most difficult obstacle to overcome, even more so than the stalemate his men faced on the French border.

"Something must be done about him, Gellert," Weber insisted. "He killed sixteen of our men last night and severely injured another dozen more. Some of those may not make it."

"I am working on it," Gellert assured his spy. "Have you heard from your man on the other side."

Weber shook his head.

"He knows not to risk making contact unless he has something substantial to offer."

Gellert nodded as he took his seat, shooting Gaulitier a look of warning.

"Let me get him for you," the larger man pleaded. "I will wait for him in the trenches and bring him to you in as many pieces as you'd like."

"Not yet," Gellert refused bluntly. "I wish to deal with him personally, to make an example of him. I am considering a few options."

"And until you decide, our men will continue to die," Weber returned evenly.

"Not if they are vigilant," Gellert replied calmly. "He must not be given the opportunity to strike."

"He isn't," Weber argued. "He is making opportunities for himself to strike."

Gellert released a deep breath.

"He will be dealt with soon enough," he promised. "We will continue with our current plan. We will break their spirit, and then we will break them, The Serpent included."

"Then I hope you know what you are doing," Weber sighed.

Gellert did.

Only one man had ever understood the way his mind worked, but Albus was no longer there to support Gellert.

He didn't doubt himself, but words of encouragement from his old friend had always been gratefully received.

"You have my word that I will deal with him soon enough. See that the men are assured of this."

Weber nodded.

"I will do what I can," he vowed, leaving the study, though seemingly not content with how the conversation had gone.

"And you will steer clear of Cassiopeia," Gellert warned Gaulitier.

"So long as she stays away from me. If she doesn't, then I will not be responsible for what happens to her."

"She will," Gellert muttered, "and if any harm comes to her, it will be you I come for."

With an arrogant smirk, Hans too left the room and Gellert turned his attention back to his map.

It felt like almost a lifetime ago that he and The Serpent had met for the first time in the cave in Greece, and even longer that Gellert had been vowing that the man would be dealt with soon enough.

He wanted to believe his own words, but it was difficult to do so when dealing with a man like The Serpent.

He was cunning, slippery, and ruthlessness, and Gellert saw some of himself in his adversary.

The day would come when they would meet again. The world would not allow the one confrontation they'd had to be it.

No, Gellert believed in fate, in destiny, and there was something that resonated with him at the thought of the war passing by without another battle between the two.

It was coming, and though Gellert could not be certain when, he could feel it in every fibre of his being that the two would once more cross wands.

(Break)

"What do you want when this is all over?" Charlus asked curiously.

Harry was laying on his bunk, looking up at the ceiling made of the ground their room had been dug into.

What did he want?

It wasn't something he had pondered much, his thoughts occupied by this war and the one that would come should Voldemort have his way.

"I want to kill the man that murdered my parents."

"Is that all?" Charlus asked with a frown.

"I've never let myself think beyond that," Harry murmured. "What about you?"

Charlus offered him a look of sympathy.

"Not much," he replied. "Seeing what I have and experiencing this has put things into perspective. I want to honour the name I carry, fulfil my responsibilities, and raise a family. Why haven't you killed him yet, the man that murdered your parents?"

"It's complicated," Harry snorted.

If only Charlus knew.

"What happens after?"

Harry met the gaze of the Potter lord and shrugged.

"What's to say that I will even survive?"

It was a grim prospect, but one that Harry had carried with him for years, even before he learned of the prophecy that hung over him.

"Bollocks to that," Charlus huffed. "I know you, Harry. You won't die, you wouldn't give the bastard the satisfaction."

"I don't plan to, but where he's concerned, anything could happen. I suppose it is up to fate to decide who will live in the end."

Charlus shook his head.

"Don't you want a family of your own?"

Harry swallowed deeply at the question.

It was another thing he had not allowed himself to consider, not when it may never be.

"What I want and what I will be allowed are two different things," he sighed.

"You speak as though it's out of your control," Charlus snorted.

"Maybe it is," Harry replied ominously.

Before Charlus could respond, a knock at the door sounded and Moody entered the room and cast a series of privacy charms to ensure they were not overheard.

"How is the investigation going?" he asked.

"Not well," Charlus answered. "Whoever is leaking information is being incredibly careful about it, and it's not as though we can sneak around the trenches well enough. They're too narrow."

"Aye," Moody replied tiredly. "It's urgent that we find this man before anymore damage can be done. We can't have a repeat of what happened, or worse."

"I do have an idea," Harry broke in thoughtfully.

"Go on, lad, what is it?"

"Well, we can't sneak around the trenches, but I know of someone who could."

"Who?"

Harry chuckled to himself before shaking his head.

"I'd need you to do something for me," he requested.

"If it gets this bloody spy found I'll do whatever you need."

Harry nodded as he figured how to word his request without revealing who he was.

"I need you to meet with the Supreme Mugwump alone and ask him for information of where someone is."

"The Supreme Mugwump?" Moody asked, his eyebrows raised in surprise.

"Yes, but only him," Harry said firmly. "We don't know who else can be trusted."

Moody frowned deeply.

"I'm sure I can arrange it," he muttered. "Who am I asking after?"

"Her name is Eleanor Summerbee."

"Who's she?" Charlus asked curiously.

"She's a bank robber," Harry answered amusedly. "If there's anyone who can spy in the trenches without getting caught, it's her."

"A bloody bank robber?" Moody questioned.

"A very good one," Harry said as though it would convince Gabriel it was a promising idea. "You have to trust me on this, she will be very useful."

"And where is this bank robber?"

"In prison somewhere. That's what I need you to find out."

Moody shook his head.

"I don't think I can convince the Supreme Mugwump to release a prisoner for this."

"I never said you had to do that," Harry pointed out. "I just need for you to find where she is."

Moody narrowed his eyes at Harry whilst Charlus stared with his mouth agape.

"You're bloody mad," the latter declared.

"Aye," Moody agreed. "I don't know what you're thinking, Evans, but you can't just break someone out of prison."

"Why not?" Harry asked. "She's not doing anyone any favours in there. She could be useful to us out here."

Moody rubbed his eyes tiredly.

"I'm going to bed," he declared, "and I'll pretend this conversation never happened, just this once mind."

"If we want this man captured, she is our best chance short of dragging everyone in here and feeding them Veritaserum until we find out who it is," Harry pointed out.

Moody shot him a look of irritation before heading towards the door.

"Eleanor Summerbee," he mumbled to himself as he left. "Bloody bank robber? What is this world coming to?"

"You're bloody mad," Charlus chuckled.

"So are you," Harry fired back.

"I'm not the one talking about staging a prison break."

"No, but you'll be coming with me to do it."

Charlus's eyes widened, and Harry chuckled at his expression.

"You've been complaining that you haven't been able to help me," he pointed out.

Charlus was evidently not as amused as Harry felt, but he nodded.

"Alright," he agreed, "but if you get me killed springing a bloody convict, I'll come back as a ghost and haunt you for the rest of your life, you bastard."

"Fair enough," Harry replied. "Come on, I thought you had a sense of adventure?"

Charlus merely scowled at Harry in response, but the corner of his lips twitched in the beginnings of a smile forming.