Signed, Sealed, Delivered
October 1942
As keen as Harry had been to implement his plan, he equally understood the need to exercise restraint and patience. There were so many factors that came under consideration, and for the past few months, he had been nothing but diligent, ensuring that even the minutest of details were accounted for.
Covert scouting missions had been adopted almost daily to check for patterns and inconsistencies within Grindelwald's occupation of Italy, and to acquire an accurate number of men and other defences they would be faced with.
With the need to maintain their own defences, their own numbers needed to be considered, and how many men could be spared for the undertaking on behalf of the ICW.
It was undoubtedly the most intricate plan they intended to put into motion, and as Harry rightly pointed out, there was no room for error.
Charlus had been all too happy to support him, and though he had his reservations, he knew this was their best chance to remove a significant supporter of the Dark Lord.
With Italy taken, the same door used to dislodge the ICW from defending France would be open to them to return the favour.
"Are the guards still changed every four hours?" Harry questioned, his eyes roaming the positions on the map that Yaxley and Gilbert had marked out.
"Yes," Reg confirmed. "Those that are relieved go to here," he added, pointing to a section further away from the coast that was being used to house Grindelwald's men.
"So, if we strike quickly, we have a few hours," Harry murmured. "How many men are in that building?"
"No more than a hundred," Gilbert answered confidently, "and no other positions until Rome."
Harry shook his head in disbelief.
For weeks he'd had the southernmost coastal parts of Italy scoured by dozens of teams who had found no sign of Grindelwald's forces. It wasn't until they were sent nearer to Naples that there was any indication the Italians were supporting the man.
Evidently, Grindelwald was relying on the natives to be loyal to their government, and to him by extension.
It was an odd strategy, and for some time, Harry had been certain there was more to it, but nothing had been found; no further defences, no hidden parties of men lying in wait, and no great army stationed within Italy further than the northern border.
Reaching the capital via Ostia appeared that it would not be as difficult as anticipated.
"It can't be that easy," Harry muttered to himself.
Charlus nodded his agreement.
"I can't see how he would leave it so unprepared. Not unless this is something he hasn't accounted for."
"Or what we heard from the Italians is true," Gilbert piped up. "They're not enjoying this war, and now that they're losing, they want out of it."
Harry released a deep breath as he continued to eye the map, looking for any flaw in the plan he had formulated.
"Petr said the same," he acknowledged. "The Italian soldiers aren't so keen on the fighting anymore. If we can take the Ministry, they may surrender."
"They will if their families are threatened," Arcturus broke in. "We don't need to harm any of them, but if they believe we will, they will fold."
Harry nodded grimly.
"It will be much smoother for us if we can get them to surrender," he mused aloud. "Without them in our way in the north, we can secure the area for ourselves."
"What about Spain?" Charlus questioned.
"It's not a concern, for now," Harry replied. "The best Grindelwald can do with it is send his men from there to France to fortify it. If he is smart, that's what he will do."
"And Hungary?"
"It's isolated," Harry pointed out. "Again, he may move troops from there to Germany or France, but that is all he has now. The last of the fighting will be there, but I would prefer if it was in France. Germany has too many unknown variables."
"So, we're almost there?" Gilbert asked.
"Let us take Italy first before we decide that," Harry snorted, "but if this goes to plan, the end will be in sight."
Gilbert smiled nervously in response.
"So, when do we make our move?" Adams questioned. "I think the longer we wait the worse off we will be."
Harry eyed the map a final time, a thoughtful frown creasing his brow.
Charlus knew he was wracking his brain for any other danger he had not considered, but he eventually deflated.
"We will move in two days," he declared. "I want the men gathered tomorrow and we will reveal the details to them," he instructed Adams who nodded his understanding. "Charlus, I want you and Yaxley to begin grouping ours, and the rest of you to do the same," he added to the gathered commanders. "For now, you're all dismissed."
Charlus remained with Harry whilst the others took their leave.
"Are you sure about this?" he asked.
Harry shook his head.
"No, but we can't linger any longer," he muttered. "We need to make our move whilst he's not expecting it. I have no doubt that he is up to something, Charlus, but whatever it is, I can't see any path of success for him. When we take Italy, he will be surrounded."
"But at his most dangerous," Charlus replied, echoing Harry's own words.
"At his most dangerous," Harry sighed.
(Break)
Her year away from Hogwarts had flown by, and before Minerva was ready, she'd needed to decide if she was going to return to begin teaching as a professor. She'd had her reservations in doing so but had chosen to go back on a part-time basis.
The thought of leaving Rosa filled her with trepidation, but Minerva knew she had made the right decision.
Rosa would be fine with Kora caring for her, something the elf was only too happy to do.
Still, as excited as Minerva was to begin this new chapter in her life, she wouldn't do so full time until Rosa was older.
No, she would not reside in the castle and Albus had readily agreed to Minerva teaching up until the fourth years for this term at least.
This way, she was able to maintain a healthy balance between the two where she was still a presence at Hogwarts, but not away from her daughter for any prolonged period.
The first month had gone well enough, and with Halloween approaching, those within the castle were very much in the spirit of the celebrations.
For Minerva, the holiday had become a sombre one since she'd learned what had befallen Harry's parents, and she wondered how he would be spending the day.
Often, he would choose to isolate himself, wanting to be alone so he could think of James and Lily Potter, and the life that was robbed from him.
She didn't blame him for being so maudlin, but she wished he was nearby so that she could offer him some comfort.
Inevitably, her eyes drifted towards Tom Riddle who was surrounded by his housemates at the Slytherin table during lunch.
In the year since she had seen him, he'd somehow become more popular amongst his peers, more confident in himself, and even began to resemble the man he was becoming.
He no longer held the look of a cruel, little boy, but carried himself as a smarmy, arrogant young adult.
In some ways, he had earned the right to be so proud of himself. His OWL scores had been the best any student had achieved this year by some considerable margin, something Slughorn would often brag about, though the man seemed to be distancing himself from his once favoured student.
Whenever Riddle was mentioned in a meeting, or even in passing, the man would appear to be conflicted, wincing as though something had happened between the two.
Not that the man would enlighten anyone.
As much as Slughorn liked to boast about the achievements of those in his house, he remained rather tight-lipped about what was required of him as the head of Slytherin.
It made Minerva ponder just what issues he faced, and what had happened to make him cautious of Tom Riddle.
She shook her head of the thought.
Unless it was of concern to the safety of the school or another student, he wouldn't bring it up with Armando or Albus.
It just wasn't the Slytherin way.
"Are you set for the day?" Albus broke into her thoughts.
Minerva nodded, tearing her gaze away from Riddle.
"I am," she confirmed.
Albus offered her a smile.
"It really is great to have you back," he said sincerely. "The castle was not the same without you."
His words warmed her, and though Minerva missed being at home with Rosa as she had the previous year, she didn't regret coming back.
She had missed Hogwarts, and the castle was as much her home as the one she had built with Harry.
What would happen when the war was over and Harry was back, she knew not, but she couldn't imagine her life not teaching.
"He's different," she said, nodding subtly towards the Slytherin table. "It's like he is mocking everyone around him, like he knows things we don't."
Albus's expression darkened as he nodded.
"I have no doubt that he does, my dear," he murmured. "He has managed to avoid my efforts of keeping a close eye on him, and I can only imagine what trouble he is causing that we do not see. Have you noticed that they gravitate towards him?"
"It's unmissable," Minerva replied.
"I had hoped that Harry's presence would have deterred him in some way, the knowledge that there was another wizard that possesses similar talents would have put Tom on a brighter path, but I fear I was naïve. I see it now, Minerva, the kind of man he is growing into, and worry for the future. If what Harry says about him is true, I see dark days ahead."
"What can we do, Albus?" Minerva asked.
She knew the answer already, the knowledge of the prophecy Harry had told her of and her meeting with Cassandra Trelawney not something she could dismiss.
"Until he does something that warrants our intervention, there is little we can do," Albus sighed. "Already, Tom has made significant connections amongst his peers, and his OWL results has garnered him much interest. Unless there is undeniable proof of any wrongdoing on his part, we can merely continue to observe him as best we can, for what little good it will do."
Minerva nodded her understanding.
Harry had always been adamant that it would be he and Tom that would meet in the future, and the older the boy grew and the more unsettling he became, the harder it was to fool herself in to thinking it would be any other way.
(Break)
It was odd to be simply bobbing amongst the waves with a thousand or so others around him under cover of darkness, but here was where Harry found himself, now a short distance off the west coast of Italy.
On his right was Charlus who appeared to be having a flashback to the last time the two of them have ventured near the country, and on his left was Ken Adams, wearing an expression of grim determination.
The men that had been chosen for the operation were somewhere below them, waiting for the signal to advance.
"Of all the things I imagined I'd do in my life, this isn't one of them," Adams snorted.
"Well, you've not spent near enough time with Harry," Charlus chuckled. "It only gets stranger the more you do."
Adams nodded and grinned, seemingly quite enjoying this venture for the time being, though Harry suspected his mood would shift soon enough.
"If Reg and Derek are right, the guard should change in only a few minutes," Harry murmured, his gaze fixed on the shoreline in the distance. "When it does, we give them time to settle."
As ever, Gilbert and Yaxley proved to be thorough in their scouting, and the men that were seated around the fires were relieved by another arriving party of around a dozen men.
For a short while, they simply conversed before the group that had been on duty took their leave of the beach.
With it now being a little after midnight, Harry and his men had time to carry out the first phase of their plan, and without preamble, he sent the signal to those below before he, Charlus, and Adams proceeded, casting a disillusionment charm over themselves before setting off.
They slowly made their way towards the shore, their eyes never leaving the men they were watching and ensuring the lapping waves disguised their movements in the water.
When they reached their position, Harry halted them with a gentle prod to each, and the waiting game began once more, this time in utter silence.
It would not do well to do to jeopardise the efforts they had put in these past months for something so negligent.
The next signal Harry was waiting for came around ten minutes later when the fire the guards had situated themselves around flickered before being snuffed by a sudden gust of frigid wind.
As one, the Italians stood, only to crumple to the ground in the same manner.
With the guards downed, the trio went ashore to find a gathering of their own men bunding their prisoners.
"Good work," Harry praised as he went to each unconscious man and took a sample of their hair.
"Are you sure about this?" Charlus asked worriedly.
Harry nodded.
"We will be fine," he assured him. "It's too late to change the plan now," he added with a grin.
Charlus simply shook his head, and Harry gestured for the others to gather round.
"Keep them subdued and hidden," he instructed the group that would be remaining behind. "You shouldn't be disturbed, but if you are, keep your mouths shut unless you speak the language."
Out of the twelve that were staying, nine were fluent in Italian, something Harry had been insistent on.
Three of them were Adams' men and the rest were a mixture of the ICW forces, men that Harry had come to trust whilst preparing them for the operation.
"Do you all remember the codeword?"
"We got it, Commander," one of the Americans responded whilst he transfigured his robes to match those of one of the prisoners.
"Good, now there is enough Polyjuice to last each of you twelve hours. It should be more than enough, but if you do not hear from us by then, you are to abort. Petr will be waiting for a report if that happens."
The men nodded their understanding, and Harry turned his attention towards those that would be accompanying him who had been altering their appearance as best they could to resemble the natives.
"Remember, we subdue them quickly, take the potion and get to Rome in the next twenty minutes. From there, you will follow me to the Ministry."
"Are you sure we can just walk in like we own the place?" Yaxley questioned.
"We are more likely to get caught if we try sneaking around," Harry pointed out. "It's better to hide in plain sight."
Yaxley raised an eyebrow but didn't comment further.
"When we are in the Ministry, we wait for the Minister to arrive."
"You make it sound so simple, Evans," Arcturus chuckled humourlessly. "Why don't we stop off for some gelato and pizza on the way to really rub it in?"
"If we pull this off, I'll buy you all the pizza you can eat," Harry promised, ignoring the Lord Black's sarcasm. "We've been preparing for this for months. I have every faith this will be successful."
"And then Grindelwald will come down on us like a tonne of shit," Gilbert snorted.
"No," Harry denied, "it gives us the chance to come down on him like a tonne of shit. He will have nowhere to run, not if he wants to keep any power here. He will either have to try to remove us from here, or dig himself in."
"He won't come here," Charlus sighed. "He will make us go to him."
Harry merely shrugged in response.
"I have no problem with that. Come on, we've dragged our heels long enough. Let's go."
They hiked the half a mile across the beach where the other men had been billeted, watching closely for any sign of life.
There was none, and the lights were off in the cabin, signifying their targets were likely sleeping, something that would be to their advantage.
Holding up a hand to halt his men, Harry approached the door, and shook his head as he was met with the rumble of snoring.
With a tap of his wand, the lock clicked, and he waited with bated breath for a moment to ensure none within had been disturbed.
When he was certain they hadn't, he silenced the hinges and gestured for his men to approach before opening it.
Lining the walls were a dozen beds, each occupied by a single, slumbering man.
Without need of instruction, the group spilled silently into the room and took their spots by the bed.
"Now," Harry commanded, and an array of stunning spells were cast. "Get them tied up."
Harry watched as his order was carried out before a hair was taken from each unconscious man and they were liberated of their wands.
"Do they have portkeys?" Harry questioned.
"They do," Charlus confirmed, holding up a necklace he had taken from his victim. "It has the Ministry seal on it."
Harry nodded.
The portkey wouldn't take them to the Ministry, but to an arrival point a short distance away, something he himself had established during his own observations.
Travel directly into the Ministry building had been forbidden.
"Take them," he instructed as he adjusted his features.
He would be the only one not using Polyjuice potion, his experience of being Vincent Crabbe in his second year having been more than enough of an experience to last him a lifetime.
"What are we going to do with them?" Gilbert asked, jerking a thumb towards the prisoners.
"Leave them," Harry answered. "They're not going anywhere."
When the men had finished their preparations, he inspected them to ensure there was nothing that would give them away as they carried out the rest of their plan.
Satisfied, he released a deep breath.
"Remember, keep your mouths shut and don't draw unnecessary attention to yourself. The last thing we want is to have to fight our way out of there. On my signal."
Counting down from five to one, Harry and the rest of the men activated the stolen portkeys and were sucked into the abyss.
They would arrive in plenty of time for when the Minister would make his appearance at six am, something he did like clockwork.
It would be a nervous wait, but one that would bear fruit, so long as nothing went awry in the intervening hours.
(Break)
It was odd being surrounded by so many hostile people. At any given moment, their cover could be blown, and the entire group would be slaughtered where they stood, should the locals take exception to their presence.
Charlus would not even predict what the reaction would be.
Although every building in sight as they passed through the magical district of Rome was adorned with pictures of Grindelwald, most had been defaced in some manner.
A comical moustache drawn here or there, or Italian slurs scrawled across his face.
Still, these did nothing assuage to Charlus's worries.
The vandalism could be the work of one or only a few disgruntled citizens. The rest could be firmly in support of the man.
Regardless, this was the most vulnerable Charlus, and undoubtedly many others had felt since they had been at war.
"We're almost there," Harry murmured.
The single saving grace was that they were carrying out the operation early in the morning when most would still be in bed. However, the streets were far from empty in the capital.
Market workers were setting up their stalls, and every café was seemingly open for those heading to work.
If the ICW men were detected, they would be outnumbered in seconds.
"That's the entrance to the Ministry."
As with every other country in Europe, the Ministry was hidden amongst other innocuous buildings, the Italian's having chosen a bakery as their front.
"Are you sure?" Arcturus questioned Harry.
"That's where the Minister himself enters. From what I have seen, the bread oven the furthest from the door is the way in."
"I suppose it's better than flushing yourself down a toilet," Yaxley snorted. "How long do we have?"
The sun had begun to rise by now, and the men were getting nervous.
"Well, the Minister should arrive about now," Harry declared, nodding towards an alley next to the bakery.
Immediately after he finished speaking, a party arrived; a single man surrounded by six guards dressed in blue robes.
Without preamble, the Minister was escorted into the bakery by his entourage and disappeared into the backroom.
A few minutes later, Harry gestured for the men to follow, and they too made their way through the building and to the oven.
"Remember what your tasks are," Harry murmured. "The auror office should be quite empty at this time, so let's take advantage of that. Charlus and I will deal with the Minister."
"And if anything goes wrong?" Gilbert enquired.
"Let's not think about that," Harry urged before he stepped into the roaring flames.
Charlus and the others followed suit and found themselves in a beautiful marble foyer, the white walls adorned with renaissance paintings in gold frames.
The furniture was made of a solid, dark wood, and not unlike the British ministry, the workers milled about, talking to one another as they went about their business.
With only a nod, Harry headed towards a staircase to the right, a path that Charlus took after wishing the others good luck.
Now was the time for the riskiest part of their operation, where how the rest of the war would proceed was to be decided.
Using the wands they had stolen from the men in the cabin, they were admitted further into the Ministry and Charlus took another sip of the Polyjuice potion, grimacing at the rancid taste of the brew.
"What about the guards?" he asked.
"They won't be a problem," Harry replied dismissively.
True to his word, when they reached what was evidently the Minister's office, all six of the blue-robed men were unconscious, and before Charlus could enquire as to what had happened to them, Harry merely pointed to a small spider scuttling away across the wall.
"Summerbee," Charlus snorted at the ingenuity.
There were aspects of the plan that Harry had been quite forthcoming with, but others he had kept to himself.
After what had happened when they had been stationed in France, he would take no chances with being spied on, especially with such a delicate undertaking.
"She spiked their coffee with a sleeping draught," Harry explained as he began taking the wands of the slumbering men. "They won't wake for a while."
Charlus began helping him, disillusioning each one after they had been secured with ropes.
When they were done, they simply entered the Minister's office as though they belonged, though the Minister himself balked at their appearance.
Before he could react, however, he was disarmed, silenced, and bound to his chair with a few spells from Harry who took the seat on the opposite side of the desk.
With a wave of his across his face, the disguise he had created for himself was shifted, and the Italian Minister's eyes bulged fearfully.
"So, you know who I am."
The Minister nodded frantically.
Harry leaned back in his chair and eyed the man for a moment before speaking.
"What happens next is entirely on you, Minister," he began diplomatically. "Allow me to explain the situation you are facing, and then you can decide how you wish to proceed, yes?"
The Minister nodded once more and Charlus's grip tightened on his wand.
"Firstly, I have you as my prisoner, and as we speak, your department of magical law enforcement has been infiltrated by my people. Any aurors within will have been disarmed and subdued, as have your guards in Ostia. Are you following so far?"
The Minister glared at Harry, his jaw tightening.
"Secondly, I have more than a thousand men who are making their way to the city. They will arrive shortly, and their actions will depend on the clock reaching nine am. If we have not come to an amicable agreement, they have been instructed to take Rome by force."
The Minister was breathing heavily by this point.
"Finally, your wife, Donatella, and your daughter, Cressida, have been taken into our custody and are being held by Petr Sokolov. They will not be harmed and have been taken for their own protection. I imagine if you refuse my demands, they will become targets of your enemies here."
A look of sheer panic had replaced the palpable fury of the Minister, and though he could not speak, he was pleading with his eyes.
"I'm going to remove my silencing charm, Minister, I urge you not to scream."
With a wave of his wand, the Minister's laboured breathing could now be heard.
"My wife, my daughter…" he wheezed.
"Are safe and you will be reunited with them," Harry assured the man.
This was one of the parts of the plan Charlus did not know about, though it didn't concern him.
Harry would not allow them to be harmed.
"What are your demands?" the Minister questioned, evidently understanding the futility of the situation.
"To begin with, I will accept your unconditional surrender. You will withdraw your troops from the border, and you will denounce your association with Grindelwald. Your men will be disarmed, but allowed to return home, and Italy will be governed by the ICW until it is deemed no longer a threat by unanimous decision."
The Minister was not happy with the demands, but nodded, nonetheless.
"You will step down from your position and will place yourself in my custody. Your country's assets will be frozen and regulated by the ICW. Your auror force will consist of men and women selected by the ICW and Italy will pay damages to the countries it has invaded on behalf of Gellert Grindelwald."
"And if we refuse?"
"Then Italy's membership will be rescinded for no less than one hundred years, the ICW will continue to occupy your lands, and economic sanctions will be placed to ensure you pose no threat. If I were you, Minister, I would accept these terms or the next decades for your people will be exceedingly unpleasant. If you comply, your membership will remain, and you will have the full support of the ICW in rebuilding your country and re-establishing your reputation. If you do not, Italy will be left to rot. The terms are laid out in this document, and signed by all members of the ICW," Harry finished, handing the Minister a scroll of parchment.
The Italian read it carefully before shaking his head.
"Before you speak, I have something else to say," Harry cut him off as he opened his mouth. "What you decide will determine the future of your country now, and in the years to come. If you refuse, I will show no mercy to your men."
Charlus raised his eyebrows at the sincerity in Harry's words.
"That is not what I want, Minister," Harry sighed. "You have nothing to gain at this point, but still, everything to lose. You have lost. Denounce Grindelwald, bring your men home, and I will ensure that you and yours are treated with dignity. I give you my word."
The Minister met Harry's gaze before chuckling darkly.
"You know, Serpent, I have heard that you are a ruthless man that stalks the shadows. Some say that you are a monster, that to make an enemy of you is signing a death warrant, and yet, here you are offering me and my people life," he added thoughtfully. "I have dreaded the day that you would turn your attention towards me. I even spoke of my fears to Grindelwald who was dismissive, but I am no fool. You are not a monster, Serpent, you are a saviour."
Harry was taken aback by the Minister's words and the man laughed once more.
"I will agree to your terms," the Minister continued. "Only because I believe you are the better man. My people have become quite disillusioned with Grindelwald, and my advisors have been begging for months to abandon his cause. You have given me the opportunity to do so, and I do it gladly. My people have suffered enough these past years, and I would see it come to an end."
Harry said nothing as he untied the man who immediately reached for his quill and scratched his signature at the bottom of the parchment.
"I place myself in your hands, Serpent, but I have only one request before I am taken to my wife and daughter."
"What is it?" Harry asked, a frown creasing his brow.
"I wish to address my people to explain what has happened. They will cooperate with you more when they know that I am safe and that this takeover is to be amicable."
Harry nodded and bound the Minister's wrists before leading him from the room with a thoroughly bemused Charlus in tow.
He didn't know what to expect from the meeting, but not only had Harry systematically dismantled the Italian alliance with Grindelwald, but he had done so in a way that left no room for compromise.
However, in doing so, he had also offered an olive branch, concessions that many would see as more than generous given the transgressions of the Italians.
(Break)
"It is too quiet," Cassiopeia moaned as she paced back and forth in Gellert's study.
Gellert said nothing but nodded his agreement.
In times of war, silence meant one of only two things.
Firstly, a comfortable lull had fallen between the two factions whilst they consolidated their men and resources. Much of war time was like this, broken by bouts of violence.
Secondly, and more concerning was it meant that plotting was afoot, and though he fell into the former of the possibilities, he doubted that Evans and the ICW did.
They now held a significant numbers advantage, and the morale of the men would be high.
If Gellert was in this position, he would undoubtedly be plotting.
"Enjoy it whilst it lasts," he urged the woman. "Evans is determined to claim victory. He will not remain idle."
"Evans," Selwyn scoffed.
As ever, the sound of the man's voice grated on Gellert, but he had shown loyalty, and Gellert rewarded that, even to irksome fools like Selwyn.
Still, the man was a coward that had fled his country when his cover had been blown.
He was now a social pariah in Britain after what he had done and was now next to useless.
"Do you wish to confront him?" Gellert questioned.
Selwyn shook his head.
"Then you should not speak his name in such a tone. You should have respect for your betters."
"Evans is a half-blooded bastard!"
"Who has the admiration and respect of even the most well thought of in Britain," Gellert pointed out. "Your name falls much lower than his amongst your peers."
Selwyn's lip curled in distaste, but he didn't comment further.
Not that there was an argument he could make against that.
Cassiopeia grinned amusedly at the rebuke, but her expression was replaced by one of confusion as hurried footsteps were heard rushing towards the study.
Without knocking, a man burst into the room clutching a newspaper.
"Gellert, you need to see this," he said frantically, offering no apologies for his rude and abrupt intrusion.
Gellert snatched the paper from the man, his blood running cold as he read the headline and subsequent statement issued by the now former Italian Minister of Magic, released in their most popular publication.
Italy Surrenders to the ICW!
Today, I have ordered that our men abandon their positions and return home. Italy has played its part in this war. To ensure that our country can prosper, I surrendered unconditionally to Commander in Chief Evans who assures me that we will be treated well by his men that will be stationed here, that we will be cared for, and that we will be protected.
Commander Evans has proven to be a fair man that does not wish for there to be any further bloodshed for our men and women, and I am in agreement with him.
Italy has sacrificed too many sons and daughters for a war that was not ours. Now is a time for us to heal, for us to accept that our former ambitions were foolish, and for us to look to a better future for ourselves and our children.
I make this solemn statement, that I denounce Gellert Grindelwald as our leader, that Italy will play no further role in this war, and I offer my apologies to those that have been wronged by us.
Furthermore, I surrender myself to the mercy of the ICW as I step down from my position as Minister of Magic, and I wish my successor the best of luck, and every citizen of this great country good fortune.
"Has this been verified?" Gellert growled.
The man nodded.
"The Italians have abandoned their posts and men of the ICW are on the border been Italy and France."
Gellert's nostrils flared as he stalked from the room, needing to see the treachery for himself.
Activating his portkey, he appeared in the trenches on the southern border of France, trenches that were devoid of his own men.
As he climbed over the lip and onto the ground above, he could see them lined up, staring curiously across the ground that separated the two countries.
When Gellert reached them, he pushed his way to the front to confirm his worries and was greeted by the sight of Harry Evans staring at him as though he had expected Gellert to arrive.
There was no smug grin tugging at his lips, nor any other discernible emotion, but that was somehow more unsettling.
Evans simply stared, reminding Gellert that he drew ever closer to victory with every country he took from him.
Gellert's jaw tightened.
The man was trying to goad him into acting with his defiant silence, but he refused to give him that satisfaction, not when he could make the man work for everything he wanted.
Yes, he had lost Italy, but the war wasn't over yet, and Gellert would ensure that Evans would not win it so easily.
If the man wished to see an end to the war, he would be the one that had to pursue it.