A Grand Plan

Having snatched Italy's support away from Grindelwald, Harry had been a man of his word and had reunited the Italian Minister with his wife and daughter before the man had been taken into custody of the ICW.

What Harry hadn't expected, however, was Grindelwald voluntarily abandoning Spain only a few days later before Harry could turn his attention to the isolated country.

It was surprising to say the least, but was the best way for Grindelwald to preserve his dwindling numbers.

He was losing the war now, and though Harry had been prepared for swift reprisals from his foe, there had been none.

No, Gellert Grindelwald was not the kind of man to dwell on losses and lick his wounds. He was preparing, but not to attack.

He was readying his forces for defence, and if Harry wanted to bring the war to an end, he had little choice but to oblige, even if it was the last thing he wished to do.

Attacking Grindelwald's forces in either France or Germany would cost lives, would consist of risks that Harry was reluctant to take, but an approach he was ultimately left with no choice but to.

It weighed heavily on his mind, especially knowing such things were unavoidable.

"Come in," he called when a knock sounded at the door to his room in Rome, pleased for the distraction from his own maudlin thoughts.

"Can I have a word, Harry?" Reg asked as he entered.

Harry nodded and gestured for the man to take a seat, taken aback by his unusually downtrodden demeanour.

"What can I do for you?" he asked.

Reg released a deep breath, shrugged, and removed a sheet of parchment from his robes before offering it to Harry.

Harry accepted it, a frown creasing his brow as he read.

Dear Reginald,

I hope this finds you well.

I am writing to remind you of your obligation to marry the daughter of Lord Parkinson, Mavis.

Whilst you have been at war, Lord Parkinson has been patient, but he grows weary of the delay.

I hope my reminder is unwarranted, and as proud as I am that you are serving your country, you must not forget your duty to your family.

I would ask that you request a leave of absence from Commander Evans so that you may fulfil our promise to Lord Parkinson.

Regards,

Lord Commodus Yaxley

Harry folded up the parchment and returned it to Reg.

"Is this you asking for a leave of absence to marry this Parkinson?" he asked.

Reg grimaced as he shook his head.

"I don't want to marry her," he sighed.

Harry released a deep breath.

"I won't pretend to know much about marriage contracts, but from what I've seen between Charlus and Dorea, they can cause real problems. Wouldn't it be better for you to talk to one of the other purebloods?"

"Probably, but they won't understand," Reg murmured. "Arcturus and Charlus got lucky. I know it is terrible that they lost their fathers the way they did, but that gave them the freedom to choose who they wanted to marry. Call me selfish if you will, but I want that freedom, Harry. I don't want to be a political pawn to keep my father in Parkinson's good graces at the expense of my own happiness."

"I can respect that," Harry replied, "but what happens if you refuse to marry her?"

Reg shrugged.

"My father will probably cast me out."

"And would you be willing to endure that?"

Reg rubbed his eyes tiredly.

"I love my family, Harry, but things are different now. When I agreed to marry Parkinson, I didn't know what life was like outside the obligations of pureblood living. I was groomed to do what was expected of me but being at war has changed that. I don't want to be beholden to anyone else. I want to choose the way I live my life."

"You have a plan for that," Harry stated.

Reg nodded, a smile tugging at his lips.

"I want to join the aurors when this is over with."

"You can still do that if you marry Parkinson," Harry pointed out.

"I could," Reg agreed, "but I don't love her."

Harry chuckled amusedly to himself.

"The American?"

Reg's cheeks flushed but he did not deny it.

"Does she feel the same?"

Reg frowned.

"We haven't spoken about anything like that."

"Then don't you think it should be her you speak to before you make any decisions?" Harry pressed.

Reg offered him a smile of gratitude as he nodded and stood.

"You're right," he sighed. "What do I say to her? I've never done anything like this before."

Harry snorted as he held up his hands.

"Trust me, you don't want to take my advice when it comes to women. Minerva was the one that instigated everything between us. Believe me, I'd probably make it worse."

Reg laughed heartily.

"I've finally discovered your shortcoming," he gloated.

Harry shook his head.

"I have many of them, Reg," he replied honestly, "But if there is anything I can do to help you, just let me know."

Reg nodded, the smile he offered somewhat looser than when he'd entered.

"Thanks, Harry, I really appreciate it."

With that, he took his leave of the room and Harry could only shake his head.

When did he become the authority on people's problems in life?

Still, Reg was a friend and he wanted to see him grasp a semblance of happiness from the years of fighting the man had endured.

He deserved that at the very least.

(Break)

Ever since Tom had heard of apparation, he had been eager to learn it and had been both irritated and disappointed that he would have to wait so long to be able to do so.

What difference did it make how old someone was?

If someone proved to be a capable wizard, surely that meant more than age.

As far as he was concerned, it was bureaucracy at its worst, and something that he would advocate for change.

Nevertheless, forgetting about the rules and regulations he was expected to abide by, he was excited now the time had arrived that he could finally partake in the activity.

The ability to apparate would grant him a new kind of freedom, and he would finally be able to begin putting his plans into motion.

Plans within plans, and apparation was the key to many of them.

Firstly, he wished to visit where his mother had grown up. Not for any sentimental purposes mind, but he wished to see what remained for himself instead of the less than flattering impression he had been given by his peers.

The Gaunts may no longer be held in high regard, but they were still descendants of the great Salazar Slytherin, and to Tom, that counted for much.

Secondly, it meant that he would no longer be bound to frequenting London during the summer.

He had the freedom to leave, of course, but he was reluctant to part with any of his coin to do so, not when he possessed so little of it.

The Hogwarts fund only went so far, and Burke didn't exactly pay him a lucrative sum for the work he did in the shop.

No, apparation was the only way, especially if he needed to arrive or leave somewhere quickly.

He certainly could not rely on the Knight Bus for that.

"Are you looking forward to this?" Avery questioned as Tom, along with the other sixth years entered the hall.

Tom nodded reservedly.

"I can see the benefit to learning," he responded simply.

Avery smirked.

The boy believed he knew Tom well, but he knew nothing. Tom allowed him to see only what he wanted known; nothing more.

"Ladies and gentlemen, your attention please," a rather short and white-haired man called. "Thank you," he added when the excitable students fell silent. "My name is Wilkie Twycross, and I will be your instructor for the next six weeks whilst you begin your journey into apparating. As you can see, there is a row of hoops before, so please, take your place inside of one of them."

Tom did so, standing between Avery and Rosier, and noticed another hoop around five feet in front of him.

"Now, whilst apparating, it is important that you remember the three Ds: Determination, Destination, and Deliberation. Without all three, you will be unsuccessful in your efforts. Now, I will talk you through the process and demonstrate."

Tom shared a bemused look with Avery who was repeating the three Ds under his breath.

"Pay attention," Twycross called as he stepped into one of the circles. "Step one: Fix your mind firmly upon the desired destination. Step two: focus your determination to occupy the visualized space. Let your yearning to enter it flood from your mind to every particle of your body! Step three: turn on the spot, feeling your way into nothingness, moving with deliberation, like so."

With a loud crack, the diminutive man vanished from his hoop and appeared in the one opposite, receiving a round of applause from some of the students.

"Is that it?" Tom snorted to himself.

"I find that it is most effective to try apparating so that you can get a feel for the changes within you during the process. With that being said, do be careful. Although myself and your professors are on hand to assist you, splinching is a most unpleasant experience. In your own time and remember the three Ds."

Although Tom was confident he could do this, a slight sense of nervousness made itself know at the mention of splinching.

Still, he was undeterred and braced himself, ignoring the muttering of his peers as they spoke the three Ds aloud, some falling over as they attempted to apparate.

Were he not so focused on his own efforts, he may have joined in the laughter, but this was important to him.

Focusing on the hoop opposite, he felt something shift within him, and without hesitation, Tom turned on the spot and willed himself into the nothingness.

A loud crack sounded, startling him, and it felt as though he was being pulled through a tube that was much too small to accommodate him.

When he could breathe again, and see through his blurred vision, it was to be greeted by the sight of his year mates looking at him in surprise.

He'd done it, and a wave of smugness washed over him as he grinned triumphantly.

"A very good attempt, young man," Twycross praised as he approached. "I would have pleasantly surprised if you had succeeded on your first try."

"I did," Tom protested irritably, pointing towards the hoop he had started in.

Twycross chuckled.

"Were you without an ear when you woke up this morning?" he asked patronisingly, pointing to the lump of flesh Tom had evidently left behind.

Tom gasped as he touched the side of his head.

"Worry not," Twycross laughed as he summoned the lump of flesh and reattached it. "In all the years I have been coming to the castle, only one person managed it first time. Not even Professor Dumbledore managed that feat."

"One person?" Tom asked, feeling his smugness return knowing that Dumbledore too had been unsuccessful on his first attempt.

Twycross nodded, a smile cresting his lips as he seemingly reminisced about the time he had witnessed such a thing.

"I think you'll agree that there is no shame in being bested by Harry Evans."

Tom's jaw tightened as Twycross walked away.

"Try again, Mr Riddle," he called.

Evans!

Tom felt his blood boil at the mention of the man who had stolen his family's magic, had stolen the Chamber of Secrets, and who had tried to kill him.

"Evans," he whispered, unable to focus on the task at hand.

With the enigma that was Harry Evans once more tormenting his thoughts, Tom did not manage to successfully apparate during the remainder of the lesson, and when he was dismissed, he stormed from the Great Hall and headed towards the seventh floor to vent, pausing briefly as he passed the girl's bathroom on the second.

Evans had taken everything from him.

It was a shameful burden that Tom carried and one he wished no longer would weigh him down.

He would have the last laugh in the years to come but knowing that Evans had managed to apparate his first time where Tom had failed was too much for the teen to bear.

No, he would not allow Evans another victory over him.

Someway, somehow, he needed to redeem himself, and the one thing he could do was take back what was stolen from him.

Placing his hand on the bathroom door, his nostrils flared as he began pondering where to begin.

The Chamber was his by rights, and he would have it in his possession before he graduated from Hogwarts the following year.

Of that he had no doubt.

(Break)

It had been so long since Reg felt the weight of his family name weighing down on him. Since he had left Britain to go to war at the behest of his father, he had truly become his own man in a world where his name meant nothing.

Grindelwald's men didn't care that he came from generations of pure stock. To them, he was merely another wand pointed in their direction.

Here, there was no armour to hide behind, and where others from pureblood families may have crashed and burned, Reg had adapted, had thrived even.

He didn't want to give that up.

Without a name to protect him, or grant him anything, he'd had to work to carve the reputation he had for himself, and for the first time in his life, he was proud of what he had done.

Now, however, the reality of the life he had once lived had come back to haunt him.

His father would call him a traitor, and his mother would be filled with shame, but Reg had been freed from the shackles of his upbringing, and he wished to make his own choices.

"Reg!" Nancy called as he approached, patting the seat next to her.

He offered the woman a half-smile as he sat.

Perhaps to many she wouldn't be a conventional beauty.

She was far from unattractive, but she was tall compared to most, carried the scars from battle, and seldom acted like a typical lady would or should.

Maybe this was one of the things that endeared her so much to Reg.

She wasn't like the pureblood girls he had come to know in his youth, didn't feel the need for false pleasantries or hide beneath the veneer of a simpering dame whose hobbies amounted to nothing more than hosting dinner parties and gossiping.

Well, that was what Reg had grown up seeing from his mother and the ladies she often hosted.

Reg had never felt any fondness towards any of them, had seen through the fakery and beneath the masks to the ugly truth each bore.

"Has something happened?" Nancy asked, taking note of his rather dour demeanour as she poured him a cup of coffee.

Reg accepted the brew with a smile and took a sip.

It was bitter, but somehow flavourless, and boiled so much that it burned his tongue.

Oddly, he had come to quite enjoy it.

Releasing a deep sigh, he said nothing as he handed the letter he'd received from his father to the woman.

"Oh," Nancy said simply once she read it, an unmissable expression of sadness and disappointment having slackened her features.

Still, Reg didn't know what to say, his tongue feeling like it had doubled in size and dried in his mouth despite taking another sip of coffee.

In lieu of his words, he took the letter back and placed it in the fire where they watched the corners curl inwards and the rest of the parchment become ash that blew away in the wind.

"I don't want to marry her," Reg said eventually. "You can tell me if it's just me, or that I'm completely insane, but there's only one person I want to be with."

Nancy's grey eyes searched him, as though she was seeking sincerity in what he spoke.

"Who?"

Reg chuckled as he shook his head.

"Don't play stupid. That's not you."

An irritating grin tugged at Nancy's lips and Reg huffed.

"Maybe I'm just a little dense," she sighed. "Maybe I've never had anyone interested in me in that way."

"Bollocks," Reg muttered.

Nancy released a deep breath.

"My family name is mud back home," she reminded him. "There is no one of any standing that would marry me."

"Well, your name doesn't mean anything in Britain," Reg pointed out, "and I couldn't give a shit what anyone thinks. If being here has taught me anything, it's that life is too short to worry about anyone else."

Nancy smiled and nodded her agreement.

"If this is you proposing to me, Reginald, I'm not entirely convinced. Not yet, at least."

Reg raised an eyebrow at the woman as he dropped to one knee.

"Is this better?" he snorted.

Nancy blushed as she looked around, seeing if they had garnered an audience.

"Get up, you stupid man," she giggled.

"No," Reg denied petulantly. "Not until you at least agree to think about it."

Nancy smiled brightly as she eyed him.

"I want a date."

"A date?" Reg asked with a frown.

"Dinner or something," Nancy replied. "I've never been on a date before."

"I can do that," Reg said thoughtfully, pondering a few ideas already in their infancy. "Tomorrow night. Eight o'clock."

"Sounds good to me."

"Here?"

Nancy nodded, and Reg finally stood.

"I'll see you then."

As Reg turned to leave he felt her hand wrap around his wrist, and as he turned to face Nancy once more, he found himself nose to nose with the woman.

They looked at one another for what felt like an age but could only have been a minute before she pressed her lips against his in a chaste kiss.

"I'll see you tomorrow," Nancy said shyly.

Before Reg managed to pull himself from his stupor, she was gone, and he walked in a daze towards his rooms, changing his mind at the last moment, realising he needed advice.

What had happened in the past few minutes had been unexpected, but he couldn't be happier for it and knew he had done the right thing.

Who knew that Harry Evans idea when it came to women would have proven to be just what Reg and Nancy needed?

(Break)

Abandoning Spain the way he had was something Gellert had done reluctantly, but with how thinly spread his forces were, and the country being all but surrounded by the ICW forces, it was the right move to make.

For the time being, he needed all his men to defend France, Hungary, and Germany, the former more so than the others.

France would undoubtedly be Evans' next target, of that Gellert was certain.

As such, he had poured his efforts into the defences there, ensuring that they were as they could be.

Still, he had his doubts that they would be enough.

With how many countries Evans had seized from him, Gellert knew the ICW army had swelled considerably, and he now faced those he had subjugated, those who believed he had wronged them.

These men and women would be motivated beyond simply being do-gooders, and that made them a dangerous enemy simply because of the personal animosity they felt towards him.

France, it seemed, was his final chance to keep a strong foothold in Europe, and it was vital that he kept it in his possession.

If the men and women of the ICW forces breached his defences and achieved victory here, his overall defeat was all but inevitable.

He could not allow that to happen.

He had worked too hard for too long to allow it.

Releasing a deep breath, he eyed the map that no longer showed a favourable layout of the land but highlighted the many losses he had endured since Evans had assumed command.

It made for rather grim viewing, but Gellert would not quit.

No, he would continue to fight, but he knew that there was one factor that could no longer be left unchecked and allowed to draw breath.

Despite the sizable forces of enemies he faced, they would be nothing without Commander Evans, and though Gellert's resolution seemed simple enough, it was anything but.

He had known it for some time now and had hoped that it would happen in the chaotic heat of battle, but his cause had not been so fortunate.

Harry Evans needed to die, and Gellert could no longer deny that it needed to be him to put an end to the man.

It was almost as though fate was bringing them ever closer to a final confrontation, that both of them were being pitted against one another for either the amusement of whatever it was that caused such things, or by the will of the magic they both possessed.

What was clear and undeniable to Gellert was that they would meet, and that one of them would cease to exist.

If that was to be so, then Gellert would have that confrontation to his own advantage, on his own terms where he could control at least some aspects of the unavoidable clash.

He would not be caught unprepared as he had in the past when the two had met previously.

(Break)

Thus far, Rome remained untouched by the muggle bombs that had destroyed many other major cities across the continent, so the walk Reg was sharing with Nancy was not spoilt by the sight of toppled buildings or craters in the street.

They had shared a meal in a local restaurant, the atmosphere between them having been somewhat awkward since their last conversation.

"You're not enjoying this," Reg sighed.

"No, I am," Nancy assured him shyly. "I've just never been on a date before."

"This was your idea," Reg snorted.

"Maybe I just wanted to experience it," Nancy replied with a shrug. "I can't say I like it, but the company hasn't been so bad."

"I'll take that as a compliment."

Nancy offered him a grin and looped her arm though his own as they walked towards the coliseum.

Reg had never taken an interest in the affairs of muggles, but having learned what the building was used for, he had become intrigued to say the least.

It was quite barbaric thinking of men taken as slaves being forced to fight to the death for the entertainment of others.

There were many wizards he could think of who would enjoy such a thing.

Perhaps magical folk had been in attendance during these displays?

He shook his head of those thoughts as Nancy released a deep sigh.

"What's wrong?" he asked.

Nancy stopped walking and turned to look at him.

"I've been thinking about what you said."

Reg grimaced.

He had played the conversation over in his mind several times since, and he was not pleased at how he had broached the subject.

"Let me speak, Reg," Nancy implored as he opened his mouth the reply.

Reg nodded.

"As much as I want to believe that you really want me, I can't help but think you only asked because of the letter from your father," she said sadly. "That maybe I'm just a way to escape from what your parents want to happen."

Reg shook his head.

"No, it's not that," he murmured. "I admit, the letter forced my hand, but everything I said to you were thoughts I had before it came. I've never met anyone like you, someone who can make me laugh, who I can just be myself with without all the pureblood crap getting in the way."

"What about Gilbert?" Nancy asked.

"It's different with Gil," Reg chuckled. "The pureblood crap doesn't get in the way because he doesn't understand it."

Nancy conceded the point with a nod and Reg deflated.

"I shouldn't have asked you the way I did," he huffed. "I didn't think it through, but I never intended for you to feel I only did it to escape everything else. I meant what I said because it's how I feel. If it is just me, then I can accept that, but I couldn't go through with what my parents want without trying for something I want more."

Nancy smiled as she shook her head.

"You know this is insane."

"It is," Reg agreed, "but the world we live in is insane. If it wasn't, we never would have met."

"I don't like that thought," Nancy replied sadly. "I've never met anyone like you, Reg. You don't care about my family reputation, and even though I still find it difficult to believe, you make me feel beautiful, even with this," she finished, pointing to the scar in her hairline.

"It might just be the most attractive thing about you."

"Thanks," Nancy replied with a playful scowl.

Reg merely shook his head.

"Look at me," he urged as her gaze fell.

When her eyes met his, they were once more full of worry, the insecurity of a life being shunned by many of her peers on full display.

"We both have our scars. Do you care about mine?"

"Of course not," Nancy answered without delay.

"Then why is it so hard to believe that yours don't bother me?"

Nancy narrowed her eyes at Reg.

"I hate when you apply logic to things. It's annoying."

"Then let me spend the rest of my life annoying you some more," Reg replied as he took her hands. "For the right reasons, I want you to marry me. Not because of anything else, but because it is what I want, and I think you might want it too."

Nancy's gaze softened.

"You mean it, don't you?" she asked gently.

Reg nodded.

"My first thought when I received that letter was that any chance I may have had with you was going to be taken away. I acted rashly by coming to you the way I did, but I meant every word."

"Then I would love to spend the rest of my life being annoyed by you," Nancy whispered.

"So, you'll marry me?"

Instead of speaking, Nancy closed the small amount of distance between them and pressed her lips against his.

"Does that answer your question?"

Reg grinned as he nodded dumbly.

"When?" he asked.

"When?" Nancy parroted, confused.

"When shall we do it?"

"I don't know," Nancy laughed. "I don't care."

"Why not now?"

"Now? We haven't made any plans or invited anyone…"

Reg waved her off.

"I meant just us for now," he explained. "We can have as big a wedding as you want after the war, but why not us, here and now. I'm sure I can talk Harry into doing it."

Nancy's eyes widened in realisation, and she nodded.

"Do you think he will?"

Reg chuckled.

"I don't see why he wouldn't."

(Break)

Minerva avoided leaving the castle late as much as she possibly could, but when work needed to be marked after a full day of teaching, or preparations needed to be made for the following day, it was sometimes inevitable.

For the former, she could take it home and attempt to complete it, but she was loath to do so.

As far as Minerva was concerned, when she was away from Hogwarts, spending time with Rosa was her priority and she did not want her daughter to grow up thinking she came second to her mother's career.

Minerva had often thought the same with her father, and as she became older, it drove a wedge between.

No, she did not wish the same for her and Rosa.

Still, readying herself to leave at ten pm was much later than she had expected, but she had managed to complete the menial tasks required of being a professor.

For the rest of the week, there would be no need for her to remain late, something for which she was grateful.

"Mr Hagrid!" she gasped as the enormous boy and a suit of armour clattered to the ground from an alcove on the third floor.

The clumsy teen scrambled to his feet, red in the face as he clutched a large box to his chest.

"Sorry Professor," he offered in a gruff, yet timid voice.

Minerva's nostrils flared in irritation.

"This is the eighth time you have been caught out of bed this year alone," she admonished. "Surely you would have learned your lesson by now?"

Hagrid had the decency to look abashed as he nodded.

"I wasn't going to the forest this time," he defended.

"Then what were you doing?"

The boy began stammering over his words, attempting to find a suitable excuse, to no avail.

Minerva frowned at him, her gaze shifting to what he carried.

"What is in the box, Mr Hagrid?"

It was strange to see someone much larger than any man she had met begin to cower and tremble in fear, something that only instilled a feeling of deep concern in the woman.

"Mr Hagrid?" she pressed as she drew her wand.

"He won't hurt anyone, he's just a baby, Professor," he replied, holding the box tighter to his chest.

Minerva could only guess what manner of creature the boy had managed to acquire this time.

During his first year, he had been caught hiding pixies under his bed, and in his second, he had somehow come to possess a rather aggressive Hinkypunk.

Armando had a fit, drawing comparisons between the young Gryffindor and a certain Newt Scamander who had tread a similar path and found himself expelled.

"Show me," Minerva said firmly.

With a shaking hand, Hagrid reluctantly opened the box, and Minerva jumped back in shock as she found herself looking into several pairs of eyes.

"I-Is that an acromantula?" she gasped.

"He won't hurt anyone," Hagrid reiterated. "Aragog's a good boy, Professor, I promise he wouldn't."

"Mr Hagrid, acromantula are among some of the most dangerous creatures in the world. One day, he will grow to be such an enormous size that you will not be able to control him. What were you thinking?"

Minerva was becoming quite irate.

Although small now, the creature would grow quickly, and the threat to the other students and even professors was not negligible.

"He needed a home, Professor," Hagrid explained, and Minerva took a calming breath as she remembered a conversation she'd shared with Harry about the boy before.

'Hagrid is harmless. He makes stupid decisions and can't be trusted with a secret, but he is one of the sweetest, most gentle men I ever met. Before Sirius, he was the only one who ever tried to tell me about my family. Keep an eye on him, Minerva. He's nowhere near as tough as he looks.'

Harry had made no mention of enormous spiders, nor the being caught out of bounds at all hours, but other than that, Hagrid was a good student who had found a love for creatures and charms, both of which he was talented with.

"You will be expelled if the headmaster catches you with that," she pointed out.

Hagrid nodded his understanding, though his fear only seemed to increase.

"Come along, Mr Hagrid," she sighed, gesturing for him to follow.

The boy released a deep breath and did as he was bid.

"Aren't we going to the headmaster?" he asked as Minerva led him down towards the Entrance Hall.

"Not tonight, Mr Hagrid."

The boy fell silent as Minerva continued on her way until the two of them had exited the castle and reached the edge of the forbidden forest.

"You will release him in there," she instructed. "If you choose to continue to care for him, you will do so in your own time, do you understand?"

The boy nodded confusedly.

"Now, I will say this only once, Mr Hagrid, and you had better listen well," Minerva urged. "There will be no more creatures in the castle of any description. You will not be found out of bounds any more this year, and you will be serving detention for the remainder of it with Professor Kettleburn."

"Yes, Professor."

"What you did is so unbelievably stupid. If you were an adult, you would be looking at a long stint in Azkaban, and believe me, Mr Hagrid, the dementors are not creatures you would wish to spend so much time with. If I catch you even once stepping out of line, I will personally drag you from this castle by your ear. Now, do you think you can finally adhere to the rules?"

Hagrid nodded frantically.

"Good. As far as I am concerned, the matter is resolved. Do not give me a reason to regret my decision."

With that, Minerva left the thoroughly chastised boy at the edge of the forest whilst she headed for the gate.

Were it not for the conversation she'd had with Harry, she would not have hesitated to drag the boy to Dippet's office, and she could only hope she had done the right thing.

There would be no second chances for Rubeus Hagrid, despite whatever affection Harry held for him.

(Break)

Having taken Italy and with Grindelwald ceding Spain in an attempt to preserve his forces, Harry and the rest of the generals could almost taste victory, but with their enemy holed up in France and the entire country under a firm lockdown, they could find no way to breach the border without a full-frontal assault that would cost hundreds of lives.

They had considered all approaches, by sea, by air, and even all manner of magical practices.

They were stumped.

No matter what they did, it would come at too great a cost, but they had to do something.

The most recent venture had been to send a scouting party to scope out the defences around the northern coast of France to see that if an Invasion from Britain was possible.

Evidently, Grindelwald had considered this too, and had taken steps to ensure that didn't happen.

"Alright, let's get back at it tomorrow," Harry decided tiredly, dismissing the others that had been with him for several hours discussing ways to overcome what they faced.

"We'll figure it out," Charlus assured him as he stood.

Arcturus nodded solemnly, a gesture that offered little relief for any of them.

Their backs weren't against the wall, but they needed to tread carefully.

"Harry we need a favour…"

Reg trailed off as he entered the room pulling the American woman he had grown close to behind him. "Sorry, we can come back," he added apologetically.

Harry shook his head.

"No need, we're done," he assured the man. "What do you need?"

"Erm…well, we were hoping that you would marry us."

Harry frowned confusedly, his gaze shifting being Reg and the woman.

"Marry you?"

"He wants you to conduct a wedding ceremony for them, Evans," Arcturus sighed.

Harry breathed a sigh of relief whilst the others laughed.

"Wait, I can do that?" he asked.

Arcturus snorted.

"You're such a clueless bastard," he grumbled. "Any representative of the ICW has the power to marry people if it is requested of them, as does the Minister of Magic of any country, and usually a department head. In your position, you can definitely marry people."

"You could probably kick Fawley in the balls and make him apologise to you for it," Charlus snorted.

Harry had not known he had the power to conduct wedding ceremonies.

He should have probably confirmed what powers his position granted him.

"I still don't know how to do it," he pointed out.

"That's easy enough," Arcturus said dismissively.

"Then you'll be helping me."

Arcturus huffed but was cut off by Reg who spoke once more.

"That would work," he said excitedly. "If you and Charlus act as my witnesses, and with Harry doing the ceremony, he'll have no choice but to accept it. He won't want to make an enemy out of any of you, let alone all three."

Arcturus nodded thoughtfully.

"Well, I haven't pissed anyone off back home for a while," he mused aloud. "Fine, I'll do it."

"I'm in," Charlus agreed.

Reg looked towards Harry who shook his head.

"If this is what you both want. When shall we do it?"

"Now," the American woman answered with a grin. "We don't see any reason to wait."

Harry looked towards the others who merely shrugged in response.

"You'd best send for Gilbert. He'd be furious if he didn't get to be here."

"I'll go," Charlus volunteered.

Whilst the man was gone, Harry began rolling the map up he and the other generals had been poring over.

"What are you working on?" Reg asked, nodding towards it.

"Still trying to find a way into France without getting us all killed," Harry grumbled.

Reg nodded his understanding.

"It's a shame you can't just go through the mountains."

"No, trying to get everyone over them is too dangerous," Harry replied.

"No, I know that, I meant through them," Reg explained. "Carve a tunnel."

Harry paused and unrolled the map once more, his mind filling with ideas that would need consideration, but the idea was not as foolish as some might believe.

"Reg, you're a bloody genius," he whispered.

"I am?"

Harry nodded, the first genuine smile he'd felt for weeks tugging at his lips.

"You are," he confirmed, already making plans within plans, the mental block he'd been experiencing having lifted immediately.

"Why do I not like where this is going, Evans?" Arcturus broke in. "You can't really be thinking about carving a tunnel from Italy to France through a mountain?"

"That's exactly what I'm thinking," Harry countered. "It may take some time, but at this point here, the rock is around seven to eight miles thick."

"That will take months," Arcturus snorted. "Even with magic."

"Maybe," Harry conceded, "but what other ideas do we have?"