Closing the Corridor
Having spent as many evenings as she had in the den of debauchery that was the bar in Berlin, Eleanor had learned much of how the wizarding underworld worked, though it certainly helped the perpetrators that Grindelwald seemingly had no care for what happened within these walls.
She had almost become desensitised to what occurred on a nightly basis; the violent deaths, the smell of evacuated bowels, and the pained screams that the crowd seemed to love.
Eleanor would never become one of them, but she had adapted, all in the pursuit of finally uncovering the truth of who Weber was.
On that front, she had been mostly unsuccessful.
The man was little more than a shadow that loomed over his empire, careful not to out himself to his patrons or even those that worked for him, but the one that benefitted from the suffering and misery here, and undoubtedly other establishments Eleanor knew nothing of.
What she had learned was that Weber was as cunning as he was elusive, never allowing himself to be directly connected to anything that transpired under his direction.
She had hoped that the bald man that oversaw this particular venture would be able to lead her to him, but that hope had been dashed quite quickly. Much like the illegal duelling, those that oversaw never met Weber directly, only corresponding through letters.
At the end of each night, the gold would be taken to a nearby branch of Gringotts where it would be deposited into an account held under a fake name, and though Eleanor had tried to carry out a robbery using her typical means, it wasn't to be.
Evidently, the goblins had learned from their mistakes, and Gringotts had secured themselves against such a thing.
As much as she had learned about how the operation worked, Eleanor had little to show for her efforts and had already considered what options she now had.
She had thought at first that she would attempt to begin following Gaulitier, who had frequented the bar on a number of occasions, but given the man's reputation, she thought better of it.
Evans had urged caution where The Beast of Berlin was concerned, and Eleanor did not wish to push her luck.
She could simply continue as she was, but to her, it would only prove to be more time wasted.
There was little else she could glean from her observations, and it was unlikely that she would learn anything else of value.
No, she needed to present her findings to Evans and allow the man to make a decision on what he would do.
She would continue to help him in any way she could, but in her current position, she had done all that could be expected of her.
Short of attempting to ingratiate herself with the men here, there was nothing else for it.
Once this final evening had come to an end, she would send him a message, and was hopeful that he would know what to do next.
(Break)
Charlus watched as Harry's eyes trailed across the map and waited for the man to make a decision. He would need to be certain of their next move before committing, and Harry wouldn't do so until he had meticulously planned each option.
It had been a little over three months since he'd returned from his last trip to Britain, and in around six weeks, he would be welcoming his first child into the world.
Still, Harry had remained with the men, relying only on letters from Minerva to keep him abreast with news of the pregnancy and how she was coping.
How his friend had been so dedicated to the war, Charlus would never know, but here he was, continuing to push them on towards a victory the men of the ICW finally began to believe was possible.
"What are you thinking, Harry?" Yaxley asked.
Harry held up a hand for silence, his focus unwavering from the task at hand.
He had been this way since he'd returned from Britain; focused, relentless, and almost a man possessed when it came to removing Grindelwald's influence from across the continent.
As such, the men had been granted little respite.
For weeks now they had swept across the length and breadth of the Ukraine, liberating city after city they came to before moving on to the next.
Charlus had lost count of how many of Grindelwald's men they had slaughtered, or how many more had fled, but what became clear from Yaxley and Gilbert's report on Kyiv was that those of the latter had not left the country.
No, they had converged on the capitol where they would evidently make their last stand against them.
"You're sure there are around a thousand?" Harry questioned the two men.
"Give or take," Yaxley answered.
Harry nodded his understanding, scratching at his beard as he continued to ponder their approach.
The ICW forces numbered considerably more than one thousand and was growing with the Ukrainians that were swelling their numbers who wished to fight for their homeland.
Despite this, Grindelwald's own were growing too, the man seemingly as busy as he had always been in his efforts to recruit more followers.
Still, an advantage of numbers here meant little when the enemy held the final bastion of Grindelwald's forces in the region.
According to the natives, the magical district of Kyiv was a perfectly defensible position and would not be easily taken, with some claiming that it would be impossible.
Were it not for Harry's knack of making what people believed to be impossible happen, Charlus would perhaps doubt their success, but he had learned long ago to never bet against his friend.
"How long until Petr gets here?" Arcturus questioned.
"He is coming from the east as we speak," Harry explained, tracing a line from near the Russian border to their position south of Kyiv on the map. "He should arrive in a couple of days."
The Russians had been invaluable here, Petr seemingly as determined as Harry to relieve the people here of Grindelwald's hold.
Between him and Harry, they had smashed their way through the defences in their way to bring them to where they found themselves now.
"We cannot attack so openly," Harry murmured, frowning at the map. "We will be slaughtered before we can position ourselves. No, there must be another way."
Charlus too gazed at the parchment, looking for any route they could use to access the magical district, but there didn't seem to be any.
"I have an idea," Harry declared, "but it's risky."
"It's always risky," Gilbert snorted. "What's the plan?"
Harry nodded thoughtfully.
"I'm not completely certain it will work. I will need to scout it first."
"Come on then, Reg," Gilbert sighed dramatically.
"No," Harry interrupted as the men began preparing themselves. "I'll take this one. Rest, you've both earned it."
Gilbert and Yaxley nodded gratefully.
For the past week they had been away from the camp, doing their utmost to find a way into the city and get an idea of the force they faced.
Somehow, they had managed it, but the way in was not a viable option for all of them.
"All of you rest," Harry urged. "Charlus, you'll be in charge until I get back or Petr does."
"What're you thinking, Harry?" Charlus asked as the rest of the men went about their own business.
"You'll know soon enough," Harry assured him as he began packing a few things to take.
He wasn't purposely being secretive, but with the new men amongst them and their past experiences of having been spied on, they could not afford to take chances.
"Have you heard from Minerva?"
Harry smiled as he nodded.
"She's doing as well as can be expected," he murmured. "Perenelle is visiting her almost daily, and her mother is with her most of the time she's away from the castle."
"Not long now," Charlus reminded him.
"No," Harry muttered, "and I'll likely still be here."
Charlus squeezed his shoulder comfortingly.
He had no woman at home on the verge of birthing his children, but Arcturus did, receiving the news of his wife's pregnancy shortly after Harry returned.
The two men had bonded over their impending fatherhood, something that most back home would never believe with the traditional Black view of those that were not purebloods.
It amused Charlus to no end to hear of the duo voicing their thoughts on parenting, discussing potential names, and even their fears.
"But your child will be safe and waiting for you when you go home."
"If I make it back," Harry sighed. "There a no promises during war, Charlus. As much as I wish there could be, there is no guarantee I will even meet them."
"Don't say that!" Charlus snapped angrily. "You will make it through this. I won't let you die out here."
Harry released a deep breath and smiled gratefully.
"Sorry, it's hard to stay positive sometimes with how much there is left to do."
"I know," Charlus sympathised, "but we will get there. We haven't fought so hard for so long to lose. Grindelwald is running scared, and it is only a matter of time before he has to try to come for us again."
Harry shook his head.
"No, it is only a matter of time before he withdraws his forces to one place and hopes to crush us as we try to take it from him," he corrected. "Once the Ukraine falls, we can sweep back across the continent, but backing him into a corner will only make him more desperate and dangerous. The journey back will be harder than what we've faced here, he will make sure of it."
Charlus nodded his agreement.
"But we will keep fighting."
"We will keep fighting," Harry assured him.
(Break)
Minerva couldn't be certain of the exact moment when walking had become what she referred to as her 'pregnancy waddle.' Regardless, she found that she didn't care for it much with how difficult it made making her way around the castle, or getting in and out of bed, or anything else for that matter.
Her mother and Perenelle would say that she had blossomed, but Minerva would disagree.
She had ballooned.
When she had reached her third trimester, it was as though the baby had decided that she needed constant reminders of its presence, and when it wasn't kicking her, it pushed against her bladder meaning she spent more time than she'd like emptying it.
Still, the morning sickness had finally abated, but her cravings for treacle tart had not.
Not a day went by where Minerva did not indulge in Harry's choice of dessert, something the house-elves of Hogwarts were happy to provide.
When she went home for the weekend, Kora, the elf that Harry had secured for them, would do the same.
Minerva had been against the idea at first, but with how large the house was, and how vast the grounds were, the Kora was an invaluable asset to have around.
"And how are we both today?" Rosalina's voice broke in as she entered the transfiguration classroom, immediately placing her hands on Minerva's stomach.
She had held off from telling the rest of the staff for as long as she could, but she couldn't keep it from them forever, and as such, the entirety of the castle had known for weeks now that she was expecting a baby.
Most had taken it in their stride, offered their congratulations and life had continued.
Rosalina, however, much to Minerva's surprise, had taken to visiting her here every morning, and escorting her around the castle whenever she left the classroom.
She doted on her almost as much as her own mother did, and Minerva saw a side to the Defence Against the Dark Arts professor that she never would have believed existed.
"Did you never want children?" she had asked curiously during one of Rosalina's visits.
"No, I would be a terrible mother," the woman sighed. "I'm far too selfish."
Minerva didn't believe that for one moment, but she didn't comment any further and allowed Rosalina to do as she had been. She enjoyed the woman's company, after all.
"You must have been tempted to kill Harry," Minerva replied.
Rosalina snorted.
"More times than I can count. The little one will be here soon enough though."
Minerva nodded.
Soon couldn't come soon enough.
"Shouldn't we be getting you home?" Rosalina asked.
"Aye," Minerva replied tiredly. "I managed to finish the nursery last night. Would you like to see it?"
Rosalina's eyes widened and she nodded excitedly, the same way she did whenever anything about the baby was mentioned.
It was understandable.
Harry and Rosalina had grown close over the years, something akin to a sibling relationship having developed between the two.
Minerva wouldn't consider it a mother/son bond, and Rosalina would likely curse her if she suggested such.
No, they bickered far too much, but Rosalina had helped Harry more than most and he cared deeply for her.
"What colour did you choose in the end?"
"I decided to keep it neutral," Minerva answered as Rosalina helped her to her feet.
Rosalina huffed.
"I don't know why you don't want to know what it is."
Minerva had discussed it with Harry, and they had decided they'd like to keep it as a surprise.
"Just give me a moment and I'll let you through."
Rosalina nodded her understanding.
She had yet to visit the house but knew that the protections around it were quite extensive. She'd expect nothing less of her former apprentice.
Minerva threw a handful of floo powder into the fire before stepping into the emerald flames, shuddering as she always did when the magic washed over her.
She wouldn't pretend to understand what Harry had done, but she felt safe here.
Drawing her wand, she muttered a few incantations under her breath before extracting a drop of blood and placing it in the fire. After only a brief delay, the flames turned red, and she reached out her hand to pull Rosalina into the living area that Kora had decorated.
"Merlin, it feels horrible in here," Rosalina commented, relaxing only when Minerva gestured for the poised serpents that rose from the flames to stand down.
It took a little time for Rosalina to adjust to the magic, but she eventually breathed a sigh of relief.
"What would happen if someone tried to attack you?" she asked curiously.
Minerva shook her head.
"I have no idea," she answered honestly, "but Harry said they wouldn't even draw their wand before they were dead."
Rosalina grinned approvingly as she looked around the room appreciatively.
"I'm still getting used to all this space," Minerva admitted. "I don't think we'll ever use it all."
"No, but it is nice to have it," Rosalina replied. "Now, where is the nursery?"
Minerva snorted amusedly at the excitement of the other woman before leading her towards the staircase through the entrance hall where Kora was perusing a catalogue and experimenting with different rugs for the wooden floor.
"Hello, Mistress Minnie," the elf greeted her with a curtsey.
Minerva offered the little creature a smile, Kora's plain white apron as immaculate as ever, complimenting her light, pink skin.
"How are you today, Kora?" she asked.
The elf nodded happily.
"Kora is fine," she answered with a beaming smile. "There is still much work to be done, and even more when little master or mistress comes along."
The elf was perhaps the most excited about welcoming the baby, even more so than Minerva and Harry.
"Then I will let you get on," Minerva declared. "Remember to rest."
Kora simply nodded before turning her attention back to the catalogue, and Minerva led Rosalina to the nursery.
The woman gasped as she entered the room.
Minerva had worked hard charming the floating lights and adding the decorative touches in the form of a mobiles that hung over the cot and Moses basket, to the mural on the wall depicting an array of magical creatures that Kora had helped her with.
"A snake?" Rosalina chuckled as she picked up the stuffed toy.
Minerva shrugged.
There was a strong chance the babe would be a parselmouth, so she wanted them to be used to the creatures from the very beginning.
"It is wonderful," Rosalina declared as she walked around the room, taking in every detail. "Harry will love this."
"I hope so," Minerva sighed.
He hadn't seen it yet, nor any other part of the house for that matter since some of the décor had been changed.
There were still many rooms that Minerva had not even been in again since they'd viewed the house, but she had asked Kora to leave the basement.
Minerva had no doubt that Harry had plans for the space, and she didn't wish to deprive him of them, not unless it would burn the house down.
That was unfortunately a possibility with him.
"Thank you for showing me this," Rosalina said gratefully when she'd finished her inspection. "You really will be a wonderful mother."
Minerva smiled.
She was still not used to the idea but knew she would have little choice in the coming weeks.
The baby would be here, and as excited as she was to finally meet the little thing that had been growing within her, she was equally terrified by the thought.
More than anything, she wished Harry could be here.
She had her mother, Perenelle, and even Rosalina if she was needed, but it wasn't the same.
Harry should be here, and were it not for the war, he would be.
Of that, Minerva had no doubt.
(Break)
It was odd how one became accustomed to scents that would, under normal circumstances, leave you feeling nauseous and fighting the urge to vomit, but as Harry waded through the human waste that came up past his knees, he found the smell barely registered.
Nothing would ever come close to the smell of rotting corpses baking in the hot sun, not even gallons of flowing excrement.
Still, he wouldn't be here if he believed he had other options to explore.
He had entered the sewer system just outside of the city, and for hours now Harry had been trudging through the pipes in search of an opening, his senses alert to every sound, every scurry of the rats that dwelled here, all in the hope of finding just one opening.
The city above needed to be taken, and though he could perhaps do it alone for the most part, he could not do so without great risk to the men and women that called this place home.
They were effectively hostages, a safeguard against a fast and hard strike that would obliterate the magical district of Kyiv.
Grindelwald's men were adapting to accommodate Harry's previous tactics.
No, as frustrating as it was, he could not risk so many lives, not when he and his men had fought so hard to protect them.
There had to be another way, and after pressing on for another hour or so, he found it.
Grindelwald's followers were foolish not to guard it, but had they even considered such a possibility.
Harry had his doubts.
Peering through the grate, he observed those that passed him by, most being emaciated men and women who were shepherded along the streets, hundreds of them who would be sacrificed without thought if Harry didn't plan accordingly.
Having seen enough, he turned to retrace his steps through the pipes, leaving a subtle trail behind so that others might follow in his footsteps.
Although he wished to be the man to lead them through this avenue, that would fall to another.
Harry would be needed elsewhere, and though his plan would not be without risk, it was the best they had, and soon enough, the battle for Kyiv would commence.
(Break)
Tom found himself in a melancholic mood as he gazed across the castle grounds from his vantage point at the top of the Astronomy Tower. June had arrived more than a week ago, and with it, the reminder that he would have to return to the orphanage once more in the coming weeks.
He had considered attempting to speak with the headmaster once more about this but had decided against doing so.
No, he would have to return.
He'd even entertained the idea of hiding out in the Room of Requirement for the duration, but his absence would be noted, and Dumbledore was watching him far too closely.
Tom wouldn't put it past the man to visit the orphanage and check on him.
He released a deep breath as he stretched, tired from the additional work he had been putting into his practice in his retreat.
"It's only for a few months, Tom," Helena soothed.
The teen nodded, resisting the urge to offer a barbed reply.
As irksome and naïve as the ghost was, she had assisted him rather aptly thus far, and there was more that she could do for him.
Although she was almost a thousand years old by this point, she maintained the mentality of a spurned child, and acted as such.
It would not do to give her a reason to hold a grudge against him, not when she knew too much.
Could he even kill a ghost if needed?
The thought made him frown deeply.
"Are you okay?" the woman asked, the feel of her essence on his shoulder as she rubbed it causing him to shudder.
Tom smiled, nonetheless.
Despite his impending return to the orphanage, this had been his best year at Hogwarts yet, and the next may be even better.
If Tom was fortunate, McGonagall would not be returning once she birthed the abomination she carried.
His nostrils flared irritably.
Even a half-wit could deduce that Evans was the father of the child, a bastard babe that could follow in the footsteps of its father.
Another parselmouth to contend with.
Tom grit his teeth in an attempt to calm himself.
The babe was irrelevant, but Tom would not pretend that he hadn't visualised ending it in the womb.
A simple tripping hex as the woman descended one of the many staircases in the castle would likely be enough, but Tom had stayed his hand, fought the urge knowing that he would be discovered.
That would only result in Evans seeking him out, and not even the defences around the castle would stop him.
Tom remembered the murderous glare of the man the night he had tried to kill him, and it made the teen shudder involuntarily before he shook his head.
No, Evans would never be able to kill him.
As good as the world believed the man to be, Tom would be better, but provoking him prematurely would be foolish.
Dealing with Evans and his offspring would take patience and planning.
Tom could wait, and in the meantime, he had other things to focus on.
"Would you do something for me over the summer?" he asked Helena, the sadness in his tone enough to elicit a look of empathy from the ghost.
"Of course, Tom," she replied.
Tom offered her a half-smile of gratitude, something the woman always fell for.
"You've shown me the incredible room that your mother created, but I would like to find Salazar's too. It would bring me closer to my family. Do you have any idea where it is?"
Helena shook her head.
"I'm sorry, Tom, I don't," she sighed, "but I can try to look for it," she added, not wanting to disappoint him.
"Thank you," Tom replied, cupping her cheek gently. "You really are the best thing about this place."
Helena trembled at his touch before Tom left her atop the tower to return to the dungeons, his thoughts drifting to just what the Chamber of Secrets might hold.
(Break)
Petr had returned the day after Harry had left, his efforts to route Grindelwald's men out of the east of the country having been a resounding success, and with the ICW forces so close to Kyiv, they had opted to flee rather than join their comrades.
The men had celebrated, pleased by the triumph, but the sober mood washed over them once more when a tired Harry arrived having completed his scouting trip.
"What did you find?" Charlus asked.
Harry shook his head as he released a deep breath.
"There is a way in," he confirmed, "but it is just as risky as I thought it would be."
"Is it our only option?"
Harry nodded.
"It is, but there is something else we can do to reduce the risk of those storming the city."
"Something riskier," Charlus sighed knowingly.
Once more, Harry nodded.
"I will lead that part of the operation, and Petr will lead the others through the sewers. I have laid a path to be followed, but you will get dirty."
Petr snorted.
"What will you be doing?" the Russian asked curiously.
"Flying," Harry muttered unhappily. "I will need around twenty volunteers to come with me to serve as a distraction so that you can get into the city."
"Only twenty?" Petr questioned, cutting Charlus off before he could speak.
"We need enough to keep them occupied, but any more could be dangerous to us. I need competent fliers, the best we have."
"That would be me and Arcturus to begin with," Charlus volunteered.
Harry appeared as though he would disagree, but he could not argue with Charlus's skill, nor Arcturus's, both of whom having played for their house teams at Hogwarts for several years.
"I have two men who played for the Russian Quidditch team," Petr informed them. "They are excellent fliers."
Harry nodded appreciatively.
"We will need some volunteers but do make it clear that this will be very dangerous. None should offer themselves unless they are confident they can avoid spell fire. We will be the centre of attention until our men are in the city."
"How long will that take?" Charlus asked.
"It depends how quickly Petr can shove them through the grate. You'll manage two at a time."
"That could take a while," Petr warned. "I could maybe get forty or fifty men through per minute."
Harry hummed thoughtfully.
"Around fifteen minutes should do it to have around seven hundred men through. I don't like it."
"Njet, but what choice do we have?" Petr asked.
Charlus did not like the idea much either.
The idea of having a mounted strike team had been discussed, but Harry had pointed out just how dangerous such a thing was. All it took was just one spell, any spell to unseat someone and the chances of survival were slim.
The Potter lord snorted.
So dangerous, and yet, this was exactly what they were going to do.
Either their efforts would prove to be successful, or many would lose their lives. He hoped for the former but could not deny that the latter was more likely.
(Break)
"It almost feels like it did when we'd go out to play a Quidditch final at Hogwarts," Arcturus murmured as he stood with Harry, Charlus and the rest of the group that would soon take to the sky.
For two days they had been practicing, with Evans inspecting the men to ensure they could fly well enough for what they would be undertaking.
The tension amongst them was palpable, and even Arcturus could not deny the precariousness of the situation they would soon be facing.
"Something like that," Charlus snorted. "There'll be more than a few broken bones now though if we balls this up."
Arcturus nodded his agreement as he took out a photo of himself and Melania on their wedding day from within his robes.
Dorea had taken it whilst they'd shared their first dance, neither paying attention to the camera as they were lost in one another's eyes.
It was his favourite photo, and even though the wedding was not so long ago, the edges were rather dog-eared from where he had handled and gazed at it so much.
"You'll see her again," Charlus broke into his thoughts.
"I know," Arcturus replied, replacing the photo, and patting his pocket before turning his attention to the broom he held. "How did Evans get these?"
The Nimbus range had become the most popular brooms over the past couple of years for Quidditch teams and flying enthusiasts across the continent.
For some models, there was a waiting list of months.
Harry was popular, but fame only got you so far in life.
Even Arcturus had been unable to secure a broom any faster and he was the head of the most prominent family in Britain.
"Harry owns forty percent of the business," Charlus huffed amusedly.
"Bloody hell," Arcturus grumbled. "Everything he touches turns to gold."
"It was his gold that got the first brooms produced," Charlus explained.
Arcturus could only shake his head.
Perhaps he needed to discuss the art of investment with the man.
"Alright, get ready," Harry's voice commanded, evidently having received the signal they were waiting for from Petr. "Remember, keep moving and don't be predictable with your flying. If you need to pull out, get as far away from the city as you can. Any questions?"
"If we live, can we keep the broom?" one of the Russians asked.
Some of the men laughed nervously.
"They are yours," Harry replied with a shrug.
"Really?" the man asked, surprised by the answer.
"I don't know what I'd do with twenty brooms," Harry pointed out.
The men whispered amongst themselves excitedly, though the sombre mood returned as Harry called them to attention once more.
"Let's go."
They kicked off from the ground into the sky, hoping that striking under the cover of darkness would offer them a little more protection than they would have during a daytime raid.
Being outside of the city, they couldn't see much, but their vision would improve vastly once they were above, and as they came upon the Ukrainian capital, Arcturus sought out his first target.
For their own benefit, and to assist their own men that would be storming Kyiv from below, they would be focusing their spell fire on those on higher ground, and atop buildings to nullify the threat they posed.
Arcturus's first victim was swept from his vantage point with a banishing charm, being hurled over the edge of the rooftop he was occupying, the sudden and unexpected attack giving the man no time to defend himself.
Another fell in a similar manner before Grindelwald's forces had organised themselves into defensive formations across the city and began returning fire.
As dangerous as it was to be on a broom in a combat situation, it was equally frustrating for the defenders who would were attempting to hit moving targets, but it was only a matter of time before their spell work became more accurate, or they simply got lucky.
If Gilbert and Yaxley were correct, the force below numbered more than a thousand, and avoiding so many rebuttals for a prolonged period would be all but impossible.
Arcturus swerved to avoid a sickly blue curse he almost flew into the path of, and hastily erected a shield to block another, gripping the handle of the broom tightly as it knocked him off balance.
Even more were sent in his direction, dozens of spells of various colours that he managed to evade by using the acceleration of the broom.
He passed several of his own men as he flew above Kyiv, they too having been quickly put on the defensive, their focus solely on not being shot down, and offering little in the way of offense.
Not that they could if they wanted to.
They had drawn the attention of what could only be the majority of Grindelwald's forces who were seemingly determined to put an end to the threat they posed.
Spell after spell continued to climb towards the mounted men, and it became increasingly difficult to dart between the salvos.
It wasn't long before Arcturus spotted the first of their small group fall victim to a barrage of spells, the end of his broom ablaze as he plummeted towards the ground with a scream that was cut off suddenly on impact.
He had fallen hundreds of feet, and from such a height, there was not a chance he had survived, something Arcturus tried to ignore as he continued with his own efforts, wondering just how long they had been up here.
For all he knew, an hour could have past already, or it may have only been a few minutes.
He shook his head once more as he continued with his efforts to not be clipped by an errant spell, hoping that the ground forces would begin their assault before none remained in the sky.
(Break)
With those flying overhead serving as a distraction, Reg was doing all he could to hurry the men through the grate from the sewer so the attack from the ground could begin as quickly as possible.
Taking a moment to appreciate the aerial acrobatics, he shook his head.
He wanted nothing more than to be up there with Harry, Charlus, and Arcturus, but Reg was not a seasoned flyer. In truth, his efforts on a broom had been subpar at best throughout his life, so he had opted to help ready the troops here, much to the appreciation of Petr who had taken command.
"Come on, get moving!" Reg whispered harshly, coaxing the men into position.
It had been almost ten minutes of tension. Three of the twenty fliers had been brought down, and from here, Reg couldn't tell who.
"How long?" he asked Petr.
"Five minutes," was the sharp reply he received, the Russian just as restless as him.
Reg nodded stiffly, helping more men out of the grate.
"What did you find, Gil?" he asked as the man returned from a lastminute scout, breathless from having evidently run through the streets of Kyiv.
Gilbert held up a hand and took a moment to compose himself.
"Most of Grindelwald's men are near the centre," he wheezed. "I've found a way to get behind them. If that lot up there keep this up, they'll never see us until the first spells hit them," he finished excitedly.
"Bloody hell, I could kiss you sometimes. I won't because Merlin only knows where you have been."
"Piss off, Yaxley," Gilbert huffed.
Reg grinned as he slapped the other man on the back.
"Well, since you know the way, guess who's going to be at the front?"
Gilbert groaned.
"Oh, come on, you don't think I'd let you do it alone, do you?"
"You're a real friend, Reg," Gilbert grumbled sarcastically. "What would I do without you?"
"That's the spirit," Reg replied with a grin.
"Yaxley, we're ready," Petr declared as the last of the men left the sewers.
Any amusement Reg felt evaporated immediately as he took a deep breath.
"Gilbert knows how we can get behind them. We'll lead the way."
"I will come too," Petr declared without hesitation. "Let's go."
(Break)
Harry could count on one hand how many times in his life he had been more relieved than he was when the spell fire below began, signalling that Petr had arrived with the other men.
Those in the sky still had to avoid the efforts of some intent on bringing them down, but most quickly shifted their focus to the fight closer to hand, the more immediate threat to them.
"REGROUP!" Harry called, signalling for his men to follow.
After striking a man down with a throttling curse, he landed on a nearby roof, and what remained of his group followed suit.
In all, they had lost seven men, a sacrifice that Harry wished could have been avoided, but was all but inevitable if they wished to take the city.
More would be lost to them until the fighting stopped, something that Harry was keen to happen sooner rather than later.
"Brooms away, let's get down there," he instructed.
The rest of the group did not want platitudes, or heartfelt words of sorrow for the loss of their companions.
The time for that would come later. Now was the time to continue fighting.
When they reached ground level, the group was greeted by the familiar sight of streets littered with bodies, the dead and the dying, flashes of spell fire, and screaming.
All had become almost daily occurrences for them, and though each would haunt them in their own way, they had become accustomed to war, and every last bit of misery it brought with it.
Harry quickly located where the bulk of the fighting was taking place, and without any need for prompting, his men threw themselves into the fray, with Harry joining Charlus and Arcturus, the three of them carving a path through Grindelwald's followers.
"DIE SCHLANGE!" one shouted, only to collapse to the ground, grasping at his throat as blood spilled through his fingers from Harry's severing curse.
His warning, however, was loud enough to draw the attention of many to Harry, and he quickly found himself being bombarded by the efforts of several men.
With Charlus and Arcturus at his side, nothing came close to hitting any of them, and with their combined efforts, the attackers were felled quickly, adding to the dead strewn across the streets.
"Isn't that Gilbert and Reg?" Charlus asked, pointing towards an alleyway where the two men had been pinned down by a significant force.
"Help them," Harry instructed, his attention focused on the last of the larger groups that remained, these men doing all they could to hold off the attack that Petr was leading.
With a nod, Charlus and Arcturus sprinted towards where Yaxley and Gilbert were attempting to defend themselves, and Harry twirled his wand between his fingers.
This exchange would not be like the last, but without the need to worry about having a man either side of him, it opened up his options.
He redirected a cutting curse sent his way back towards his assailant who was not as quick on the uptake.
The spell bit into his chest and sent him tumbling backwards, his wound bleeding freely.
Not wanting to give any other an opportunity to strike, Harry went on the offensive, his wand a blur as he indiscriminately cast spells at those not garbed in the uniform of the ICW.
As a fifteen-year-old being pursued by Death Eaters through the bowels of the Ministry, he had been terrified when he'd had to fight for his life, but now, Harry was in his element.
The replies came thick and fast, and yet, he barely needed to acknowledge them to know what was coming and where.
None of these men were Grindelwald nor Voldemort, each of them lacking the brilliance and power of either of the men. Individually, they were no threat to Harry, and even working cohesively to bring him down, their efforts paled in comparison to either of his foes.
Still, it did not deter any of the Grindelwald's followers from trying, the lure of the glory of killing Harry too strong to ignore.
Harry, however, would not die so easily, something many learned to their detriment.
Every man that engaged him was dispatched of, some falling victim to their own spells and others from Harry's creation.
Many screamed, and those that died slowly pleaded for mercy, as others called for their mothers as though they were children who had merely scraped a knee.
They eventually fell silent, their begging replaced by new victims.
Harry breathed heavily as he took in the devastation around him, the initial burst of adrenaline having ebbed away.
The fighting that had been raging only moments ago had all but ceased, the last of Grindelwald's men recognising the futility of the situation they found themselves in.
The last few dozen dropped their wands and Harry breathed a sigh of relief as he spotted Charlus, Arcturus, and Yaxley supporting a limping Gilbert towards him.
"What happened?" he asked.
"My arse," Gilbert groaned, eliciting a bout of laughter from the other three.
"He took a cutting curse for me," Reg explained. "You're a bloody hero, Gil."
"With his arse?" Harry snorted.
Gilbert moaned in pain, and Harry chanced a glance at his wound, wincing as he did so.
From what he could see, the man was now missing half of his left buttock.
"Get him to a healer," he instructed.
"Come on, Gil," Reg sighed. "If you're a good boy, I'll even convince Petr to let you have some vodka."
"Up yours, Reg," Gilbert whimpered as Arcturus helped them towards where the healers were now setting up a medical station a short distance away.
Harry shook his head.
Gilbert would be okay in a few days, though his backside would certainly never be the same.
It would be quite the story to tell when he returned home.
"We did it," Charlus sighed tiredly.
Harry nodded, allowing the first smile to crest his lips for weeks to form.
It had taken months of fighting, clawing for every mile gained of land here, but they had indeed done it.
The Ukraine had finally been liberated, and though he was pleased, the real work would begin now.
"What next?" Charlus asked.
"We carry on," Harry answered simply, "but not until you have taken some leave along with Gilbert and Reg. You've all more than earned it. Go and see your mum, Charlus, it's been almost a year."
Charlus swallowed deeply as he nodded.
"I will," he promised.
"And check on Minerva for me if you have time. It would mean a lot to me if you could."
"You didn't even need to ask," Charlus chuckled, squeezing his shoulder comfortingly. "I'll break the news to the others. It might stop Gilbert whinging for a while."
Harry watched Charlus's retreating form as he removed the coin he'd been using to communicate with Eleanor.
We need to meet. I'm in Berlin. E
Petr was more than capable of overseeing things, and Kyiv was in no danger of being attacked, not with the ICW forces stretched across the entirety of the country.
Eleanor's message served to remind Harry that although they'd achieved a great victory, and taken a significant step to eradicating Grindelwald's following, there was still much to do, more battles to fight, and more victories to be had before the war would be concluded.