Letters

For clarification, we are in February 1941

The smell of stale smoke and alcohol that had once been a welcoming aroma only made Minerva nauseous, her nose having become much more sensitive over the past weeks.

Having a cat as an animagus form, her sense of smell had been heightened for many years, but the pregnancy had made it almost unbearably so.

"A Gillywater please," she requested from the barmaid who shot her a questioning look but didn't comment.

It was not Minerva's usual tipple, but given her condition, she didn't think Firewhiskey would be appropriate.

"That will be a knut," the barmaid informed her, placing the drink on the bar.

After paying, Minerva made her way to one of the unoccupied tables in the corner, her hand coming to rest on her stomach without thought.

Her mother had taken the news better than expected, though Minerva could not be certain of her father's reaction.

She had yet to tell him, and her mother had promised that she wouldn't, not until Minerva was ready.

The two women had shed many tears, many of worry but some of happiness too.

Whatever her father's thoughts would be didn't matter, not when Minerva had not even told Harry yet.

His reaction was the one she was most concerned about.

He wouldn't be unkind to her, nor would he abandon Minerva in any way, but with everything else happening around them, a baby was the last thing they should be thinking about.

In the week that had passed since she spoke with her mother, however, nothing else had occupied her mind.

Minerva was going to be a mother, and as uncertain as she was about the future, it all centred around the baby that was growing within her.

Harry would be a great father, of that she had no doubt, but that did not stop her thinking that he might blame her for this.

She had gone to him the first night he had returned to Hogwarts. It was not something she would ever regret, but she was scared Harry would when he learned of her predicament.

Minerva was terrified of telling him. She was terrified that it was not what he would want, and that he would believe she had done this intentionally.

She hadn't, but neither had taken any precautions to prevent it.

Not that such a thought offered Minerva any comfort.

"What a bloody day," Poppy sighed as she slid into the seat opposite her. "When you write to Harry next, can you tell him to slow down with his efforts to wipe Grindelwald's men off the face of the earth? All week we've had new admissions from the continent."

Minerva snorted.

"I'll be sure to mention it."

Poppy frowned at her questioningly.

"Is something wrong?" she asked.

Minerva deflated.

She had no more tears to shed, and as much as she missed Poppy, both of their schedules keeping them busy and unable to meet up as much as they wished, she needed her, not just as a friend, but a healer.

"You could say that," Minerva sighed. "I need you to check me over."

Poppy's frown deepened.

"Have you been messing around with your animagus training again?"

Minerva shook her head.

"No, nothing like that. I need you to check the baby to make sure it's healthy."

Her words were met with silence, and as Minerva looked towards her friend, she was greeted by an expression of shock as Poppy digested what she'd said.

"Your baby?" the healer whispered in disbelief. "You're pregnant?"

Minerva swallowed deeply as she nodded.

"Oh, Minnie," Poppy gushed, beaming as she stood and pulled her into a crushing embrace before a look of concern replaced the smile. "The father, is it…"

"Harry," Minerva confirmed. "I haven't told him yet."

Poppy shook her head confusedly as she took her seat once more.

"When?" she asked dumbly.

"When he came back at the end of October. I might have gotten tired of waiting for him."

"So, you took what you wanted," Poppy giggled. "Well, I'm surprised it took you so long. How was it?"

"Poppy!" Minerva admonished, her cheeks reddening.

The healer merely grinned in response.

"It's not like I get much gossip," she defended. "Hospitals are much more boring than you'd expect. Was it more than once?"

"I'm not saying anything else," Minerva huffed.

"It was," Poppy said victoriously. "I bet the two of you were at it like rabbits."

Minerva wished that the ground would swallow her up, the blunt questioning from her friend being something she should have expected.

"Are you going to check me over or not?"

Poppy took pity on her and nodded.

"Come on, you can come to my place, and we will see how the little mixture of you and Harry is doing. Now that is a frightening thought."

"What is?" Minerva pressed as she stood.

"A miniature version of you and him running around," Poppy chuckled. "No, you'll be travelling by floo," she added firmly. "They'll be no apparating if you're pregnant."

Minerva scowled at her friend but didn't argue and followed her through the fireplace after Poppy had vanished.

"Right, robes off and lay on the sofa," the healer commanded as she removed her coat and fetched her bag.

"Robes off?"

Poppy tutted.

"I need to examine you and it's much harder to do so with everything covered up. You didn't have a problem taking them off for Harry."

Minerva blushed once more, and she narrowed her eyes at her friend before disrobing.

When she was in her underwear, she laid on the sofa and Poppy went to work beginning by feeling around Minerva's stomach.

"Have you experienced any sickness?"

Minerva nodded.

"In the morning mostly, but sometimes throughout the day."

Poppy hummed as she pressed on the areas below Minerva's navel.

"Any bleeding?"

"No."

"Fever?"

Minerva shook her head.

"Well, everything feels as it should," Poppy murmured as she reached into her bag and retrieved a thermometer before placing it in Minerva's mouth.

"How is your appetite?"

"It's normal."

"Any digestive issues?"

"No, just indigestion, and I need to pee a lot."

Poppy nodded as she removed the thermometer and drew her wand. She cast a few spells before nodding satisfactorily.

"Your blood pressure is fine, and there are no signs of malnutrition," she informed Minerva. "Now, you already know you cannot apparate, but there will also be no transforming whilst you are pregnant."

"I thought you'd say that," Minerva grumbled.

Poppy smirked amusedly.

"I'm going to prescribe you some supplementary potions for you to take, but I will bring them for you from the hospital tomorrow, and you will see me once every two weeks for a check-up. Now, would you like to see the baby?"

Minerva wasn't sure if she was ready for this, but she couldn't say no. She needed to see it for herself.

She nodded nervously, the moment proving to be as sobering as when she'd shared the conversation with her mother, and she had spoken of her condition aloud for the first time.

Poppy gave her an encouraging smile as she slowly cast another spell. When she was done, an odd image appeared in front of them, and it took Minerva a moment to ascertain what she was looking at.

"It looks like a real baby," she whispered.

"It is a real baby," Poppy chuckled.

Minerva was lost for words as she stared at the projection, the tiny human being shown having stolen her ability to talk.

"Everything looks as it should," Poppy assured her. "You're around ten to eleven weeks along, so quite a way to go yet."

Minerva's hand wandered unconsciously to her stomach, and she felt a few tears rolling down her cheeks, not tears of frustration or worry, but of unbridled happiness.

She was seeing her baby, and it was an overwhelming moment, one that could only be made sweeter if Harry was here.

"You need to tell him, Minnie," Poppy sighed. "The sooner you tell him, the better."

Minerva nodded.

"I will," she assured her friend.

Poppy smiled before pulling Minerva into her arms.

"I'm so pleased for you," she said sincerely. "I'm pissed off you didn't tell me about you and Harry, but I couldn't be happier. That little one in there is going to be so spoilt. Bloody hell, let's hope it isn't a girl."

"Why not?" Minerva asked with a frown.

"Between Harry, Charlus, and Tiberius, the poor thing wouldn't be given a moment's peace."

Minerva snorted.

Poppy was not wrong in her assessment, but Minerva didn't care if it was a girl or a boy. She just wanted the baby to be happy and healthy.

That was all that mattered.

"What if Harry doesn't want it?" she asked, voicing one of the things that worried her most.

Poppy shook her head.

"That has to be the stupidest thing I have ever heard you say," she huffed irritably. "This is Harry we are talking about. Even before this, the prat would have gone to the ends of the earth for you. You need to open your eyes Minerva and realise what the rest of us have known for years. The two of you are crazy about each other. I'm not saying this will be easy, but if there are two people I know that should be doing this, it's you and the other ignorant fool you climbed into bed with."

Poppy's words warmed her, and Minerva offered her friend a grateful smile.

"What do I about work?" she asked.

"There's no reason you can't carry on," Poppy replied. "The baby will be born during the summer, but you should speak to Dumbledore and Dippet about it."

Minerva released a deep breath as she nodded.

"This is really happening, isn't it?"

"It is," Poppy confirmed, "but before you do anything else, you need to tell Harry."

"I will," Minerva sighed. "I would rather tell him in person, but I don't know when he will be back."

"Then write to him," Poppy urged. "It doesn't matter how you tell him, just as long as he knows. You need to figure out what you're going to do moving forward."

Poppy was right, and as much as the thought of telling him filled Minerva with trepidation, she knew she could no longer keep it to herself.

In less than six months, they would have a baby, and as much as Poppy had helped assuage some of her worries, there were many others plaguing her that she could only figure out with Harry.

(Break)

They had barely been granted a moment of respite since they had taken the position just inside the Ukrainian border, each day passing with Harry and his men having to fend off several attacks at all hours.

Today, however, none had made an attempt to reclaim it, the bodies of those that had previously having been left where they had fallen as a reminder of the folly in doing so. Dozens, perhaps hundreds had been slaughtered by the ICW forces, and it seemed the enemy had finally gotten the message.

"They'll be back," Petr said ominously. "They won't leave it be."

Harry nodded his agreement.

He had no doubt that they would return, but for now, they seemed to think better of it.

"Then more of them will die," he replied darkly.

Petr snorted and patted Harry on the shoulder.

"When the weather breaks, those bodies will stink."

"And with a bit of luck, we won't be here when it does."

The Russian smirked as he gestured for Harry to join him by the fire where Charlus and several others were seeking warmth. It wasn't as cold as it had been further north, but it was far from pleasantly warm.

"Bloody hell, how have you lot not lost your bollocks from this cold?" Gilbert grumbled.

"The cold is nothing to us, comrade," Petr chuckled. "This is why we have vodka, da," he added, offering a bottle to the man.

Gilbert looked towards Harry who merely nodded his consent.

"Just a little bit," Harry said firmly.

Gilbert grinned and took a short pull from the bottle, smacking his lips gratefully.

"That's not bad stuff," he said appreciatively.

"Da, we do not drink swill in Russia," Petr snorted. "My mother makes this herself."

"She wouldn't happen to be single, would she?" Gilbert asked coyly.

Harry laughed as he shook his head.

"His mother is married to the Russian Minister of Magic," he explained, and Gilbert paled.

"You are welcome to try to court her," Petr said with a grin, "but you would never be seen again. My father is very protective over my mother."

"Bloody hell, trust me to put my foot in it," Gilbert huffed.

"He's almost as bad as Ogden," Charlus commented.

"But Tiberius did grow out of it," Harry pointed out. "Maybe we need to find Gilbert here a wife. It worked for Ogden."

Gilbert shook his head.

"No, I don't think marriage is for me, not again at least."

"You were married?" Charlus questioned, surprised by the revelation.

"Why is that so hard to believe?" Gilbert returned with a frown.

"Because you're an ugly sod," Reg chimed in, eliciting a bout of laughter from the others. "What happened to your wife?"

Gilbert shrugged, a flash of sadness crossing his features.

"I suppose she got tired of me," he sighed. "Being in and out of Azkaban wasn't easy for her. The last time I came home, she wasn't there. She left her ring and a note explaining she couldn't do it anymore. I can't say I blame her."

"Well, that took a miserable turn," Yaxley muttered. "Someone must have a happy story. How about you, Evans?"

Harry could think of very few happy memories, and not any he was going to share with this lot.

"I don't have anything," he said dismissively, "not unless you count accidentally inflating my muggle aunt until she floated off. Funnily enough, I've not seen her since then."

The others laughed heartily.

"Why did you do that?" Yaxley pressed.

"She insulted my mother," Harry replied darkly.

The laughter stopped.

"Your mother?" Petr asked curiously.

"Harry's parents were murdered when he was a baby," Charlus explained.

"Murdered?" Petr spat in disgust. "Who murders a mother and father of a baby?"

"An evil bastard," Harry grumbled, his fingers twitching instinctively towards his wand as it did whenever he thought of Voldemort. "I'll be seeing him soon enough."

"He was not arrested?"

Harry shook his head.

"No, he vanished the same night, but he won't escape."

"Merlin, if the shit didn't deserve what was coming, I might actually pity him. Just imagine knowing that Evans wants you dead," Yaxley urged. "I'd sooner off myself than let you catch up to me."

"He's not wrong," Gilbert chuckled.

"Well, we failed to lighten the mood," Yaxley sighed. "Are we just a bunch of miserable buggers with nothing good going on? Potter, you must have something."

Charlus shook his head and Reg looked towards Petr who followed suit.

"I have spent my life training to protect my father. I have no wife, and no children to speak of. One day, that will change."

"To the future then," Reg toasted, "and until then, we can just keep being miserable, sad bastards."

"Here, here," the others cheered.

"Speak for yourself, Yaxley," the voice of Arcturus broke in.

"You made it back then?" Harry questioned amusedly.

The man was almost three days late, but not something he could have helped. Arcturus had left before the offensive had begun, and Harry had to find a way to get him here.

"No thanks to you lot," the Lord Black huffed. "I'm wading through dead bodies and you're warming your feet around a fire."

"Come and join us," Yaxley suggested. "There's always room for another miserable shit with nothing going for them."

His words were given in jest, but Arcturus raised an eyebrow at the man and took a seat next to him.

"Did you manage to solve your problem?" Harry asked vaguely.

Arcturus nodded, a rare smile tugging at his lips.

"I married her, and even put the wind up Selwyn. Quite the productive week," he mused aloud.

"Wait, you got married?" Yaxley asked.

"I did."

"To whom? I didn't know a contract had been arranged for you. That's not something any pureblood family would keep quiet."

"Well, we didn't have a contract, but I had a provisional agreement with her father," Arcturus explained.

Yaxley huffed, looking at the other man pointedly.

Whomever had become the new Lady Black was important in the pureblood circles. It could have considerable ramifications for social standings.

"Melania Macmillan."

Yaxley chuckled.

"I heard she is quite the beauty," he commented. "If the Macmillans were of a higher order, every lord in Britain would have been trying to marry their sons of to her."

"That certainly won't be happening now," Arcturus said firmly. "Selwyn is lucky I didn't geld him."

Yaxley laughed.

"Well, you've managed to lighten the mood," he quipped. "We were wallowing in how pathetic we all are."

"If Arcturus can find someone to marry him willingly, there's hope for the rest of us," Charlus cheered.

Arcturus scowled at them all, but smirked, nonetheless.

"I don't know about that," he snorted. "Not unless the pickings are thin on the ground when the war is over. You'd all better hope the women of Britain are desperate when you return home."

"I'm hoping," Gilbert declared.

The rest of the group laughed as they each offered Arcturus their congratulations, and for the first time in days, Harry allowed himself to relax somewhat.

Some good news and a little hope for the future was what they had all needed, and with Arcturus having gotten married, it meant there was perhaps something to look forward to when the fighting was over, and that life could go on.

They just needed to win the war first, and though they were making steady progress, there was yet to be an end in sight.

Still, he would take this moment of joy for what it was, especially when no one knew when the next one might come along.

(Break)

With Gellert away on a recruitment drive to add to their already impressive numbers, Cassiopeia had been tasked with carrying out inspections of the territories they currently controlled.

She would rather have been accompanying Gellert, but there were few others the man could trust to oversee things in his absence.

Hans had been left behind too, but the man was far too rash to be given sole command.

No, he could never be left in charge with anything more than his group of ardent followers.

Between the two of them, they had split the lands Gellert held in two, and were working their way through them to ensure the defences were sufficient, that they wouldn't continue losing them to the ICW forces.

Since Evans had been given command, their attacks had been relentless, and Gellert was losing more and more countries and men with each passing day.

As much as Cassiopeia loathed to admit it, he was proving to be an effective leader, though he would never be anything compared to Gellert.

When the man she chose to follow decided Evans had been too much of a nuisance, he would be disposed of.

Cassiopeia only wished it could be her to end him, but if truth be told, she knew Evans could best her.

He already had three times, and Cassiopeia was fortunate to have survived thus far.

The only thing that worried her more than meeting the man on the battlefield was encountering her brother.

She had no desire to fight with Arcturus, had even pled with him to not involve himself, but he was on the continent somewhere having recently been married.

A small part of Cassiopeia was bitter that she had not been invited. She hadn't even known of the impending nuptials.

Regardless, there was a new Lady Black, and Cassiopeia had been excluded from it all.

She shook her head of those maudlin thoughts.

Her family, what remained of it, had made their choices as had she.

There was no going back now, though Cassiopeia would do her best to see that her siblings were spared when Gellert succeeded.

They were still family, after all, even if they were fools.

(Break)

Being in human form had become something of a commodity over the past several months that Eleanor was playing the role as a sleuth, but here she was, enjoying real food instead of feasting on flies and other insects for sustenance.

She had lost weight, and her robes hung loosely off her, and even her hair had lost most of its lustre, but she would now be limiting her time in her animagus form, much to her relief.

It felt odd being out in the open, and though she was discreetly observing a building on the opposite side of the road, none paid her any attention.

In Germany, it seemed that no one wished to appear to be taking an interest in anything other than themselves.

Berlin was a mess.

Many of the streets had been destroyed by muggle weaponry, and dozens of families were now without a home.

However, it wasn't the people Eleanor was observing.

She was waiting for this evening to come when the festivities in the nearby bar were to resume.

Her curiosity had been piqued, but more than anything else, she was keen to begin exploring a new avenue in her pursuit of Herr Weber.

Thus far, her efforts had been for nothing.

It had been easier to take gold from Gringotts than find this man.

She snorted at the thought as she polished off her sixth plate of food, the waiter removing it from the table and looking at her with disgust.

Eleanor simply leaned back in her chair and patted her swollen stomach, yawning from the tiredness that plagued her.

She had not slept properly for so long and yawned once more before checking her watch.

It would be hours before anything happened, and there was a hotel nearby in which she could rest.

Nodding to herself and unable to ignore the call of a real bed, she left some coins on the table and headed towards the hotel, her stomach aching from all of the food she'd consumed.

The sun had long since set when she woke several hours later, the combination of food and sleep leaving her feeling refreshed and better than she had in weeks.

Eleanor stretched before pushing herself from the bed to shower and ready herself.

It could be a long night and though she had sated her hunger and need for sleep, she wished to be rid of the grime that clung to her.

She peered through the window towards the bar she was observing whilst she dressed, the lights indicating that the establishment was indeed operating this evening as expected.

Ensuring that she had her wand, she took her leave of the hotel when she had fixed her washed hair and headed towards the bar.

"Members only," a large, gruff man who was guarding the door growled, stepping in her path as she tried to enter.

Eleanor merely smiled politely before walking to the adjoining alley and transforming.

She had hoped she would be admitted without the need for subterfuge, but it wasn't to be. Still, it took her little time to find her way inside the bar, nor to where the entertainment for the evening was being held.

Considerable effort had been made to expand the size of the basement, and the onlookers were kept behind what appeared to be a rather impressive set of charms that would protect them, something Eleanor quickly realised they would need when the first creature was released from an enormous box.

She had never seen an inferius in person. The subject was covered quite extensively at Durmstrang, but even the school that was known for its more liberal views on magical practices condemned the creation of these monstrosities.

It was being restrained by a collar that had been placed around its neck, and the four men holding onto the thick rope attached struggled to keep the creature under control as it aimlessly tried to break free, though its focus shifted as more people entered the pit.

Eleanor watched as a man in chains was dragged in, his eyes alight with fear.

This wasn't a willing participant, and as he began protesting in French, she realised he was a prisoner of sorts.

She could only look on as the man was released and a knife was pressed into his palm whilst several wands were aimed at him.

"If you win, you are free," one of the gaolers laughed mockingly.

The Frenchman swallowed deeply as he looked upon the creature he had been pitted against with only a dagger to defend himself.

Somehow, he managed to compose himself somewhat, and released a scream of desperation as he charged towards the inferius whose handlers let it go before they fled from the pit.

The prisoner rammed the blade repeatedly into his foe, his blows raining down on the head and chest, but the creature did not even acknowledge them.

No blood flowed from the wounds that would have killed a mortal man, and the inferius pressed on, undeterred.

Eleanor winced as the man was felled by a blow to the head and was immediately set upon by the inferius, the creature pummelling the face of the Frenchman who fell still after only a moment, the knife he held rammed into the ribs of his attacker, and his face an unrecognisable mess.

If Eleanor was in her human form, she would undoubtedly be vomiting as she watched the inferius tearing into the flesh, it's mouth dripping with blood as the crowd roared their approval.

Eleanor had seen enough of this to last her a lifetime, but she would not shy away. She wanted Grindelwald out of her country and the man to no longer plague the continent.

Everyone she knew was making sacrifices, and this was hers.

She would discover who was in charge of this particular operation, and for the first time since she'd begun this venture, she felt that she was finally drawing closer in discovering who Weber was.

(Break)

It was seldom that a member of staff would request a meeting with him with the intention to speak of something positive. Usually, the topic would centre around discussing concerns surrounding a student, an incident that required his attention, or if a professor wished to inform him they wished to leave their position.

Armando always dreaded these occurrences.

It was difficult to find competent instructors at the best of times, but during a war, it would be next to impossible.

Much to his relief, however, he did not believe Minerva would wish to broker such a subject with him, though it did leave Armando questioning just what the young woman would need to discuss.

His mind wandered to a particular Slytherin student that he, Albus, and Minerva were keeping a close eye on.

Had Tom done something terrible?

Armando would not be surprised.

Through his own observations of the boy, he had identified some very troubling characteristics, but Tom Riddle had done nothing to warrant his intervention.

Not yet at least.

The headmaster was pulled from his thoughts by a knock at his door, and he frowned thoughtfully when he realised it wasn't Minerva who had arrived.

"Come in, Albus," he called.

His deputy appeared to be as pensive as he, and Armando gestured for the man to take seat.

"Did Minerva request your presence?" he asked.

Albus nodded.

"Indeed, though I cannot fathom what it is she wishes to discuss with us," he sighed. "She is due to complete her mastery this year. Perhaps she wishes to enquire about her future."

"I would of course wish for her to stay on," Armando declared.

The young woman was an excellent instructor, and though it would mean allocating additional funds from the coffers, he would happily do so to keep her expertise within the castle.

"Until now, I believed she would wish to remain," Albus replied confusedly. "I was going to broach the subject of taking more of my classes in an official teaching capacity so that I can focus on some studies of my own."

Armando nodded approvingly.

As much of a boon as Albus was his contributions to the practice of transfiguration would undoubtedly be revolutionary.

"You would have my blessing to do so," he assured his deputy. "We both know that Minerva is more than capable of teaching the subject."

"Well, I suppose we are about to learn the nature of this meeting," Albus informed him.

Armando frowned at his colleague as another knock sounded at the door.

"I will never understand how you do that," he grumbled. "Come in."

The young woman that entered did so with an expression of determination, though it was tinged with nervousness.

Whatever Minerva was experiencing was important, that much was obvious to the headmaster.

"Please, take a seat," he said kindly, wanting her to feel at ease.

Minerva offered him an appreciative smile as she did so, her gaze flitting between Armando and her mentor.

"Would you like a glass of water, or something stronger?" the headmaster asked, unable to ignore the grimace at the mention of the latter.

"No, thank you," Minerva replied.

She took a deep breath, evidently bracing herself to speak of what she came here for.

"I don't know how to begin," she snorted apologetically.

Albus offered her an encouraging smile.

"Sometimes, my dear, it is best to simply speak than think about the words themselves."

Minerva nodded and swallowed deeply, though her resolve was unquestionable.

"I'm pregnant."

Of all the things Armando expected from this meeting, he would never have even considered this, but when he pondered it, he realised how foolish he'd been.

He chuckled to himself as he shook his head.

"Would I be right to assume that Mr Evans…"

Minerva cut him off with a nod and Armando turned his attention to Albus who had yet to say a word, only to be taken aback by the sheer joy of the man.

He was positively beaming, his eyes twinkling in a way Armando had never seen.

Armando was pleased for her and Harry, incredibly so, but his own pride paled in comparison to Albus's.

"A baby?" Albus asked, looking at his assistant in awe.

Minerva nodded, her own smile matching Albus's as she placed her hands on her stomach.

"I'm three months along."

Albus sucked in a deep breath.

"May I?" he requested, gesturing to Minerva's belly.

The woman nodded and Albus became quite giddy until his hands replaced hers, his eyes widening along with his smile.

"A very strong babe," he murmured. "I'm so pleased for you."

"As am I," Armando broke in, revelling in the happy news.

Minerva breathed a sigh of relief.

"I thought you would be disappointed," she murmured.

Albus shook his head.

"There has never been a time that you have disappointed me," he said firmly. "This is unexpected, but most welcome. How did Harry take the news?"

"I sent him a letter, but he might not have gotten it yet," Minerva answered nervously.

"He will be delighted," Armando snorted, "shocked at first, I suppose, but pleased. Merlin knows the boy could use some good news."

"Is it good news?" Minerva asked.

"The best," Armando said assuredly.

Minerva deflated.

"What if it's not what he wants?"

Armando shook his head. But it was Albus that took the woman by the hand and gave her an almost fatherly look.

"For all of his talent, and all he has endured, there's one thing that Harry has never had, and you are gifting that to him. I would not presume to be an authority on the subject, but the care he has for you is unparalleled. You've certainly come a long way from your first meeting," he added, his eyes twinkling amusedly.

Minerva blushed and Armando chuckled.

"I could not agree more with Albus," he said sincerely. "The two of you have been frustrating to watch at times, both of you as clueless as the other, but I think it is safe to say that you made it in the end, and I couldn't be happier for you."

"Nor I," Albus echoed.

Minerva visibly relaxed and nodded gratefully.

"What do you need from us?" Armando asked. "Do you need some time to come to terms with everything, to think about what you wish to do?"

Minerva shook her head.

"No, the baby isn't due until July, so I would like to continue as I am if possible."

"Of course," Armando agreed, "but if there is anything you need then you only have to ask. Your priority is the little one first and foremost."

Minerva nodded as she stood.

"I'm still getting used to everything but thank you for being so understanding."

Armando waved her off and smiled brightly.

"This is news to celebrate. Having children is a blessing that cannot be replicated by anything else," he said. "The timing is perhaps not the most ideal with everything else happening, but I have every faith you can make it work, and you certainly won't be alone. Anything you need either here or out of the castle will be provided for you."

"I appreciate that," Minerva said appreciatively, "but if you don't mind, I think I will get some rest now. I didn't expect it would be so tiring."

Armando chuckled as she took her leave from the room, his expression becoming one of worry when the door closed behind her.

"Grindelwald…"

Albus shook his head firmly.

"He must not find out," Albus said darkly. "I would never think him capable of harming a child, but he is not the boy I knew. If he feels the child can be used in some way, I fear that he would not hesitate."

Armando shuddered at the thought but more so at Harry's wroth if the man demonstrated such daring.

There would be nothing to stop the man tearing across the world and through any that dared step into his path to exact his revenge.

No, the headmaster refused to think of that.

The child would be protected by every possible means at his, Harry's, and Albus's disposal.

Of that Armando was certain.

(Break)

Harry's prediction that their respite would be brief proved to be correct as once more he and his men found themselves subjected to wave after wave of attack courtesy of Grindelwald's men.

Their efforts, however, were all in vain.

During the reprieve, the defences had been increased tenfold through the combined efforts of Petr, Harry, and Arcturus who proved why the Blacks had garnered the reputation they had.

Some of the magic wielded by the family was downright frightening as demonstrated by the men who fell victim to them.

Their fate had certainly instilled a reluctance to come too close, the charred and withered corpses acting as a deterrent.

"I think that's the last of them," Charlus sighed when another lull in the fighting occurred.

"Thank Merlin," Arcturus grumbled taking a seat next to the fire. "How many of the bastards are there?"

"Plenty more," Harry replied tiredly.

The group sat in silence for some time, either too tired to speak or simply enjoying the moment of peace.

Grindelwald's men would be back soon enough, but until then, Harry and the rest of the ICW forces would take what rest they could.

"We need to consider pressing forward," Petr suggested. "As fun as it is cutting them down from here, we are achieving nothing."

Harry nodded his agreement, his own thoughts coinciding with those of the Russian.

"Mail is here," Gilbert announced as he deposited a large stack of letters on the table before handing them out to their respective recipients.

Arcturus, Charlus, Petr, and Reg all received one, and Gilbert handed two to Harry.

The first was from Nicholas and Perenelle who informed him that the work they were conducting for the charity on his behalf was going well and that the funds were being used to support the families in need back home.

The news brought a smile to Harry's lips, and he silently thanked the Flamels for their help.

"Mother sends her love," Charlus announced.

"Tell her we love her too," Gilbert called back.

"I was speaking to Harry," Charlus huffed as he turned his attention to the commander in chief. "What's wrong?" he asked worriedly.

Harry did not register the words spoken to him, his focus solely on the letter he'd received from Minerva, his mouth agape, and his emotions a whirlwind as he re-read the missive.

Dear Harry,

I have tried so many times to write this letter to you, and I wish you could be here so I could tell you in person, but I do not know when that will be.

I'm Pregnant.

I will be three months gone by the time you get this.

Everything is fine with the baby, and Poppy assures me that it is strong and healthy, but I'm scared and don't know what to do.

I'm sorry if this isn't what you want, and I hope that you are not angry with me.

I understand if you're angry.

I didn't mean for this to happen, but I have no regrets and wouldn't change a thing.

Please, write to me when you can.

I miss you and need to know that you're okay.

Yours, always,

Minerva

"Harry?" Charlus asked worriedly, a look of concern prominent across his features.

Harry shook himself from his stupor to be met by similar looks from the rest of the men.

Unable to speak, he swallowed deeply and handed Charlus the letter who frowned as he read it, his eyes widening as he did so.

"Bloody hell," he whispered, a coy smile forming. "She's…?"

Harry nodded, his words still failing him.

"What is it?" Gilbert demanded.

Charlus looked questioningly towards Harry who sighed before nodding.

It wasn't as though something like this could be kept a secret.

Charlus gleefully handed the man the letter.

"I knew it!" Gilbert gasped triumphantly. "This lot didn't believe me, but I said that's what you'd be up to."

"Well, don't keep us in bloody suspense," Yaxley huffed irritably.

"Evans here was up to no good when he went away," Gilbert declared smugly. "He's only gone and got her up the duff too."

"Don't say it like that," Charlus chastised the man, though he was still smiling.

"You're going to be a dad?" Reg asked, his features softening.

"Apparently so," Harry replied, wondering if this was just a dream from which he would soon wake.

It was Charlus that reached him first, pulling Harry into a tight embrace.

"Congratulations," he whispered. "You'll be great."

The man was close to tears, as was Harry who smiled for the first time since reading the letter.

With the tension broken, the others followed suit.

"Minerva?" Arcturus questioned when it was his turn, his usually stoic demeanour relaxed as he took Harry's hand and placed his other on his shoulder.

Harry nodded and the man gave him an uncharacteristic smile.

"Good for you both," Arcturus offered sincerely.

"Is it?" Harry chuckled.

"It is," Arcturus returned. "We all need something to fight for whilst we're in this shithole, and now you have it. Congratulations, Evans. I'm happy for you."

With that, Arcturus moved on and Petr took his place kissing him on both cheeks.

"This is wonderful news," he declared happily, "but do you not think you should be going?" he added, holding up Minerva's letter that he had just finished reading.

Harry barely opened his mouth before the Russian cut him off.

"Go," Petr urged before Harry could reply. "We will be fine without you for a while."

Harry glanced at the other men who nodded their agreement.

"I'll be back soon," he promised. "Don't burn the place down whilst I'm gone."

With a final smile of gratitude, Harry activated his portkey, the plethora of emotions he felt only growing stronger as he did so.