An Unexpected Move

"Commander Evans, as it was you that called for this meeting, perhaps you could explain why?" Abreo urged when everyone was seated around the table.

Harry removed the wand Grindelwald had given him and slid it towards the Frenchman who frowned questioningly.

"A wand?"

"One that belongs to Fox."

Abreo swallowed deeply, a nervous expression forming across his features.

"Where did you get this?" he murmured.

"Grindelwald gave it to me."

Mutterings of disapproval broke out amongst the other Commanders, though they fell silent when Abreo held a hand up.

"He gave it to you?"

Harry nodded.

"She and her team were captured in Bulgaria," he explained. "Who knew of their mission?"

Abreo shook his head as he deflated.

"Only myself, Fox, and her team."

"So, one of them is a spy," Harry mused aloud, "unless you were overheard during a conversation, or someone spoke of it outside of those involved."

"No," Abreo denied firmly. "They did not know of it until they left, and Fox and I were not overheard. I briefed her in my own office that is checked before every meeting. There must be a spy in her team."

"Or there is one here," the French Commander growled, his eyes transfixed on Harry. "He's the one that has been cavorting with the enemy."

None spoke up in his defence, and Harry snorted before vanishing in a puff of smoke.

He appeared behind the Frenchman with his wand in hand and slammed the man's head into the table with the free one.

The rest of the Commanders stood as they drew their wands and looked towards Abreo uncertainly, waiting for instructions on what to do.

"You've already pushed your luck enough where I'm concerned," Harry whispered dangerously, "and I will not tolerate it anymore. If a single accusation passes your lips again, I will prove it to be true and kill you where you are seated, you irritating, little bastard."

The Frenchman had frozen fearfully from the unexpected attack and Harry turned his attention towards the other Commanders.

"It seems that you have all forgotten that it was me that prevented the dementors from sucking out the souls of your men, who killed a fucking dragon to stop you all being burnt to a crisp in the trenches. It was me that fought Grindelwald when no one else was willing to. I have risked my life to save others. I have bled to keep his men and beasts away, and I almost died. I will not be accused of being a traitor when I have done more than any of you to see this war ended."

He was angry, and though Harry liked to think he'd gotten a good grasp of his temper over the years, it had slipped away from him in this moment.

"If anyone wishes to accuse me of being a traitor, then speak your minds. I have no problem leaving you all to handle the rest of the war. Who knows, maybe one of you will be the one to finally kill him?"

The other Commanders said nothing as he glared at each of them in turn.

"I would bet my life that Commander Evans is no traitor," Abreo interjected diplomatically, though his words seemed to be sincere. "Besides, he did not know of the plan to liberate Bulgaria. That has already been established, and please do release the French Commander," Abreo sighed. "I can assure you, he will hold his tongue."

With a final flare of his nostrils, Harry did so and took his seat once more.

The Frenchman was red in the face, but did not look in Harry's direction, and Abreo gave him a look of warning.

"The question remains," the Supreme Mugwump spoke gravely, "what can be done about this? What did Grindelwald say?"

"He told me that he had taken them prisoner, and that if any further attempts were made in his territories that anyone caught would be executed."

"Executed?" the Spaniard exclaimed. "The man is a monster."

Abreo nodded his agreement.

"Any suggestions?" he asked the room at large.

"I would suggest we listen to the warning," Harry sighed. "He was quite serious with his threat, and I have no doubt that he will follow through with it."

"So, we let him get away with it?" the Irishman blustered.

Harry shook his head.

"He has spies here, more than one, and it would be stupid to act whilst they were active. I'm not saying we should do nothing, but not until we are certain he cannot learn of it."

"A sensible course of action," Abreo agreed, "but something must be done about these spies. Commander Evans has already been on the case, but I want the rest of you to be vigilant. Take note of any man that is acting suspiciously."

The Commanders nodded their understanding.

"What we need is information," the Portuguese Commander said thoughtfully. "If Grindelwald is taking prisoners, shouldn't we?"

Abreo nodded.

"It certainly is something to consider," he mused aloud, "but we have no prison, nor anywhere else to keep them."

"Could we not open up the prisons in our own countries?" the Spaniard asked.

"That would take considerable diplomatic cooperation," Abreo replied with a frown. "I shall discuss it during the next ICW meeting. I'm sure suitable arrangements can be made but taking in prisoners is no easy task. Leave it with me, I will see what can be done. If there is nothing else?"

The meeting broke up, and Harry was the first to take his leave of the room, still angry about the accusations sent his way, but content that he had an opportunity to strike against Grindelwald.

He had managed to convince the Supreme Mugwump that a hurried rebuttal would be too risky, and that gave him the opportunity to carry out his own plans.

(Break)

Charlus was more than a little concerned with the abruptness with which Harry took his leave of the trenches when he had returned from completing his work with Grindelwald.

He'd offered only a passing comment that he would return soon and explain what had happened when he did.

The words were ominous, and if something had unsettled Harry, it gave Charlus cause to feel the apprehension he did.

He shook his head as he continued pacing around their room.

Harry had been gone for hours, but Charlus wouldn't sleep until he returned, despite the lateness of the hour.

Not that he could settle even if he wanted to.

"Thank Merlin for that," he huffed when Harry eventually returned a few moments later. "Where have you been?"

"I had to call an emergency meeting," Harry sighed as he removed his cloak. "Fox and her bloody team were captured in Bulgaria."

Charlus frowned at the revelation.

"What the hell were they doing there? We weren't told they were going?"

Harry shook his head.

"I suppose Abreo wanted to keep whatever they were doing limited to only them," he said thoughtfully. "It makes sense I suppose. No one was ever told what the Hit-Wizards were up to."

Charlus nodded his understanding, though he was no happier about what had transpired.

"What happens now?" he asked.

Harry said nothing for a moment, seemingly lost in thought until he smirked.

"We bait a trap," he whispered more to himself. "Follow me, and don't mention anything about The Serpent."

Charlus offered his friend a questioning look, wondering just what trouble Harry was going to cause this time.

He knew the smirk the man wore, and it never ended well for someone.

With a shake of his head, he followed as Harry left their room and began walking up the length of the trench.

"The French coward accused me of being a traitor," Harry declared, loudly enough that those that were not sleeping nearby would hear, but not so loudly that he made his intention obvious.

Charlus didn't know what Harry was doing, but he would play along.

"Come off it," he snorted. "No one has done more for the war effort than you."

Harry nodded his agreement.

"True, but even the other Commanders have their doubts," he muttered. "That's why I've been instructed to finish the mission Fox started."

Charlus's eyes widened.

"We have to take Bulgaria?" he hissed. "When?"

"We've been given seventy-two-hours," Harry replied darkly. "Use the next couple of days to get some rest, we leave in two days from now."

Charlus felt himself filled with dread, the comforting squeeze of the shoulder barely registering as Harry passed him and headed back to their room.

Almost in a daze, he followed his friend once more, closing the door behind him.

"Are you serious?" he hissed, narrowing his eyes at Harry's look of amusement.

"Of course not," Harry assured him, "but I want people to believe that is what we are doing."

"Why?" Charlus asked perplexed.

"Fox's team was captured because of a spy in their midst, and I don't want anything to go wrong here for the same reason. They're getting the information from someone close to us, Charlus. It's the only thing that makes sense. How many people knew we left to free Summerbee?"

Charlus shook his head.

"Not many," he replied grimly. "Only those in our team."

"So, you see my point."

"I do, but why put on that display?"

Harry was smirking once more, and it left Charlus feeling uneasy.

"Because now Grindelwald will be expecting us in Bulgaria in a couple of days."

Charlus released a deep breath.

"I still don't get it."

"Well, whilst he is preparing for us to strike, he will be distracted. It is the perfect time to catch him unaware."

Charlus eyed his friend speculatively.

He knew he was unlikely to like the answer to the next question, but he posed it, nonetheless.

"What have you got planned, Harry?"

"Oh, just a little surprise courtesy of an old friend of his."

"The Serpent?"

Harry nodded.

"If any of that lot are spying, they will need to pass on the information quickly. What better way to use that to our advantage than to let them?"

Charlus could only shake his head.

He didn't know exactly what Harry was going to do, but it would probably be reckless, dangerous, and something that would really provoke the temper of the enemy.

(Break)

Eleanor watched as Evans and Potter left and headed back towards their room, confused as to why they were conversing so openly, though the reason became evident a moment later when one of the Frenchman that was seated around the fire listening in stood from his spot.

He made an excuse that she didn't understand to his companions, but she followed and watched as he slipped into one of the guard stations, the one that he evidently should have been manning.

She scuttled towards the alcove as quickly as her eight legs would carry her and reached as the man was murmuring into his cupped hands.

His words were barely audible to her, but she felt a sense of satisfaction and relief as a hummingbird constructed from parchment took flight, and the man watched as it vanished.

Whatever he had been up to, Evans would want to know.

Communication in the trenches was limited to sanctioned owl use, and post was to be sent and delivered using the birds provided.

This certainly breached the rules that all Commanders and their men were to follow.

Eleanor couldn't be certain what he was up to as she had heard very little of what the man had spoken, but one word had been clear, and though it was not a name familiar to herself, perhaps it would mean something the Evans.

'Weber,' she repeated to herself internally.

The name was not a French one, nor was it Bulgarian, English, or from any other country represented by the men in these trenches.

No, Weber was a German or Austrian name which was a rather moot observation since both nations had proven themselves to be enemies of the ICW forces.

The realisation was a sobering one.

Evans needed to know what she had seen and heard, as quickly as she could make it back to him in her animagus form.

The Frenchman may not be the only spy, but his actions had convinced Eleanor that he was one, and if he wasn't, he had some explaining to do at the very least.

(Break)

Tuesdays meant that Tom was granted a small window of time that he needn't be concerned if Dumbledore or McGonagall was watching his every move. They would be hosting the transfiguration club which gave him something of a reprieve.

Usually, Tom would use the time to visit the restricted section of the library or look for more secret passageways located around the castle, but tonight, he had something else that had piqued his curiosity to attend to.

Ever since Slughorn had mentioned the Grey Lady, Tom had been looking out for her, not only to meet with the daughter of one of the founders of the school, but for what he could glean from her.

If there was anyone who would know the castle better than any, surely it would be the daughter of Rowena Ravenclaw?

The thought of the knowledge the woman could have had made him very keen to make her acquaintance.

He had caught glimpses of her drifting around where he discovered the Ravenclaw common room to be located, but it was not where she spent most of her time.

No, fortunately for him, she often took to the astronomy tower where she would look upon the grounds below, an expression of sorrow marring her features.

What she had to be so mournful for, Tom knew not, and even when he had looked into the life of the woman's mother, there was nothing that offered such an explanation.

Helena Ravenclaw, the name the Grey Lady had been given, was little more than a footnote in the annals of history.

It was no wonder very few knew who the melancholic ghost of Ravenclaw was.

She had lived and died as a nobody, in the shadow of her much more successful mother.

Tom had pondered the best way to approach the woman and decided that feigning ignorance was best. If she didn't know that he knew who she was, she would likely be more susceptible to opening up, or letting something slip unintentionally.

It was a cunning move; one his ancestor would undoubtedly be proud of.

With the evening meal having been concluded and the majority of other students heading to their common rooms or gatherings, now was the time to seek her out, to see what he could get out of her to use to his own advantage.

Much to his relief, she was nowhere to be seen in or around Ravenclaw Tower, nor was she near the library where Tom had spotted her before. She wasn't even in the seventh-floor corridor that led to nowhere, but as he pushed open the door that led to the top of the astronomy tower, she was there, seemingly standing vigil over the grounds, or reliving memories of a thousand-years-passed.

She paid him no heed as he entered, nor he her as he followed suit and stared towards the forbidden forest.

After several moments, Tom realised he needed to find a way to break the silence, to lure her into conversing with him.

"Oh, I'm so sorry," he said, appearing as though she had startled him. "I didn't see you there."

The woman turned to him; her lips curved in a sad smile of acceptance.

"Worry not, no one ever does," she replied dismissively.

"I wish people didn't notice me," Tom murmured, his gaze returning towards the forest.

"You do not wish to be noticed?" the woman asked disbelievingly.

Tom shook his head.

"I'm not like the rest of them," he sighed, pointing to the silver and green trim of his robes. "I'm not one of them."

The ghost eyed him questioningly for a moment.

"Not one of them?"

"A pureblood," Tom confirmed. "The others in my house are all purebloods, but not me."

The woman shook her head and pursed her lips disapprovingly.

"Salazar would not have cared for such a trivial thing," she snorted. "If you were intelligent, ambitious and not lacking in cunning, your blood meant little."

"Salazar?" Tom asked with a frown.

The woman's eyes widened before she cleared her throat and composed herself.

"Slytherin himself, the founder of your house."

"Did you know him?" Tom asked excitedly.

The woman appeared uneasy at his question, and she turned back towards the grounds.

Tom thought he had ruined his chance and was internally chastising himself when she spoke once more.

"Several lifetimes ago," she murmured. "Salazar was one of the only people that noticed me. He would sometimes bring me sweets when I was a child. To hear of him spoken the way he is now," she finished bitterly.

"That's amazing," Tom whispered. "What was he like?"

The ghost eyed him speculatively through narrowed eyes before shaking her head dismissively, evidently not believing him to be a threat, merely a curious child.

"He was a very sweet man, and not the monster people believe him to be," she began wistfully. "He was an incredible wizard, and I have never met any other like him, not even at Hogwarts. He was a good man, and one that cared for this school and all the students in it."

Her depiction of the founder was nothing like the ones Tom had read in different books who portrayed him as a bigot, and someone that despised muggles, and muggleborns alike.

To him, according to the sources Tom had found, they were no different.

"So, he didn't hate muggleborns?"

The Ghost shook her head.

"No, he did not," she said firmly. "You should forget everything you've heard about him. None of it is true."

"I will," Tom promised resolutely.

The woman offered him a smile, frowning slightly as she took in his appearance.

"You look very much like him," she mused aloud. "You have the same colour hair, his cheekbones, and even his eyes."

Tom snorted as he shook his head.

"I'm just a half-blood," he explained.

The woman nodded her understanding.

"The resemblance is quite uncanny. Salazar was a very handsome man."

Tom felt himself redden slightly and fought to seize control of the instinctual reaction.

No one had ever complimented him in such a way, and he found he didn't care for it.

He didn't like losing control of his composure, nor the moment of weakness he'd felt from the shyness elicited within him.

Once more, the duo fell silent until Tom, when he had managed to gather himself appropriately, broke it.

"Were you a student here?"

The woman nodded.

"A student and I lived here for many years after until I died."

"I'm sorry," Tom said hurriedly.

She waved him off.

"Think nothing of it child," she insisted. "All that befell me happened so long ago now that I'm no longer convinced it truly happened. Most of it, at least."

"You were young when you died."

"Too young, most would say, but not so young that I didn't see some of the world and live to have many regrets. Now, don't you think you should be returning back to your common room? It is getting quite late, and your sleep is much more important than wasting your time speaking to those no longer truly here."

"I don't think it was a waste of time," Tom disagreed with a warm smile. "It's the best conversation I've had since I got here."

The woman returned the gesture.

"Salazar would have said something similar," she chuckled. "You really are quite like him. Now, off with you."

Tom nodded and headed towards the door, pausing as he reached it.

"Thank you," he said shyly to the woman. "My name is Tom, by the way."

The woman said nothing for a moment as she stared at him before huffing good-naturedly.

"It was nice to meet you, Tom. You may call me Helena."

"Helena," Tom repeated. "That's a pretty name. Would it be okay if I came back sometimes?"

"I am a ghost, Tom. There's little I could do to stop you."

"Oh, I won't if it would bother you."

Helena shook her head.

"No, it wouldn't bother me."

Tom offered Helena a final smile before heading back into the castle, a triumphant grin tugging at his lips.

The meeting had not gone exactly as he had envisioned. The woman was cautious, but he'd made progress, and with a little more work, he would have her spilling her innermost secrets to him.

If there was anything to be had from Helena Ravenclaw, he would obtain it, by hook or by crook, it mattered not to Tom Riddle.

(Break)

Albus frowned as he read the featured headline in The Daily Prophet, an odd and unwanted sense of envy filling him as his eyes roamed over the various images of Harry and Gellert working together to create their undeniably wonderful series of protections.

For Harry to put aside his desires to kill the other showed the kind of man he was becoming. He was a leader, and a figurehead that many were beginning to look up to. The students spoke of little other than the war, and those proving themselves to be heroes.

The transfiguration professor could barely walk a dozen feet down a corridor without hearing a mention of Harry, nor could he avoid the look of pride adorning Minerva's features.

She was proud of him, and so she should be, though Albus could not help but feel a little bitter at the latest development.

Many years ago, it would have been him and Gellert coming together to demonstrate something never seen before. It would have been him and Gellert filling newspapers for their feats of magic.

How things had changed since they had been young men filled with ideals.

Not that everyone had been so welcoming to Harry collaborating with the world's enemy. Even if it was for the good of magical lives, many saw it as a slight, but they would get over it.

If Harry was to emerge victorious from the conflict, all his transgressions would be forgiven, and his name synonymous with other figures to never be forgotten.

If it wasn't already.

At his young age, he had achieved great things, and Albus had no doubt there was much more to come from him.

He sighed deeply as he pushed the paper away.

He did not wish to be burdened by envy or bitterness.

Harry was merely doing what he himself couldn't face, and though the war was becoming harder to ignore with each death weighing heavily on his conscience, Albus could not bring himself to confront his old friend.

Not yet, at least.

Still, with each day that passed him by, the likelihood he would get the opportunity lessened.

Harry and Gellert would continue to fight until a bitter end. Neither man would concede an inch, and their continued rivalry could only end in one way.

"Death," Albus muttered to himself.

Already, there had been much of that during this war, and as Harry would continue fighting, as many more would look to him to defeat Grindelwald, more death would follow.

There truly were no victors in war, and this one would be no different.

Lives would be lost, homes destroyed, and those that survived plagued by their experiences, to carry them for the rest of their days.

Albus shook his head.

War was never the plan, and he didn't know what had changed Gellert's approach, but they'd agreed that their vision would come to life diplomatically, one country after the other.

Instead, Gellert had chosen violence, a plan that had been discussed, but one Albus had managed to deter his friend from.

Without his calming influence, Gellert had proceeded, and seemed not to care for the consequences, and now, Albus knew there was nothing to be done.

There was no going back on the choices that had been made.

Gellert was in too deep, and Albus feared the outcome the war would bring.

(Break)

If there was one thing that bothered him more than incompetence, insubordination, or failure, it was lateness. Gellert could not abide people that could not arrive on time.

Hans was here, as was Cassiopeia. Even Sato had managed to arrive from Japan on time, but Weber was nowhere to be seen.

Gellert refused to start the meeting without his spymaster, and the rest of the group were growing as impatient as him.

"It is nice of you to finally join us," Gellert remarked when the German entered almost twenty minutes later than expected.

Weber paused; his eyebrows raised but did not comment as he took his seat.

Not wanting to waste any more time with such trivial things, Gellert cleared his throat and leaned back in his chair.

"As I'm sure you are aware, my work with Commander Evans was a resounding success, and with its completion, we have one less thing to concern ourselves with. The war can resume, and resume it shall," he assured the others.

"Good," Hans declared. "I was beginning to grow bored."

Gellert chuckled as he held up his hands placatingly.

"It was an unexpected development, but one that has been remedied accordingly. I foresee no reason that our efforts will need to cease in the future. In fact, I'm sure that soon enough there will be no opportunity to experience boredom. You will all have much to occupy your time."

"Meaning?" Sato questioned.

"You will be informed by Herr Weber when we are ready to proceed with our plans."

Sato was not pleased to be kept out of the loop, but he knew better not to argue.

"As for other news, we successfully apprehended the group that was sent to sabotage our hold over the Bulgarians," Gellert announced, changing the subject. "They will spend their remaining days in Nurmengard. We have Herr Weber to thank for his most excellent work."

The Westphalian nodded, though his expression remained grim.

"What is it?" Gellert asked curiously.

"There has been a development regarding Bulgaria," Weber huffed tiredly. "I received this missive a short while ago, hence the reason for my lateness," he explained. "According to my sources, Commander Evans has been personally tasked with completing the mission the Hit-Wizard and her group failed."

"Evans?" Gellert asked darkly. "Are you sure about this?"

"There is no doubt," Weber sighed. "Your collaboration has seen his reputation amongst the ICW forces suffer. Many believe him to be a traitor for working with you."

Gellert shook his head in disbelief.

"Fools," he muttered. "They should be falling on their hands and knees to thank him. Our combined efforts have saved many lives on both sides."

Weber nodded his agreement.

"How did the ICW find out about the capture of their people so quickly?" he questioned.

Gellert could no longer hide his amusement.

"Because I told Evans," he revealed unashamedly.

Hans, Cassiopeia, and Sato were not pleased by the news, but Weber appeared to be pensive.

"Knowing that Evans would be compelled to act," the German mused aloud.

Gellert nodded.

"But I did not expect it to be so soon, or him to be ordered to."

He shook his head.

Evans was wasted working for people who did not appreciate him and all he'd done.

"What do we do?" Cassiopeia asked.

"Evans has been given three days, and plans to arrive in two," Weber explained.

"Then we prepare for his arrival," Gellert instructed. "Hans, I want you and your men in Sofia as soon as possible with another five hundred in support. I will also be there. With our work complete, there is nothing preventing us resuming our vendetta against one another."

"What about me?" Cassiopeia asked.

"I want for you to check in with Osbert. He has been noticeably absent recently."

"The man prefers to live with his beasts," Cassiopeia said disapprovingly. "I would prefer to be in Bulgaria."

Gellert shook his head in frustration.

"Fine," he agreed. "Mr Sato will check in with Osbert before he returns home."

Sato nodded his compliance.

"Perhaps now we can make some needed progress," Gellert huffed. "Without Evans, they lose their beacon, and they will be ready to collapse without his leadership."

(Break)

For an occupied country, the capitol had been left surprisingly untouched, though the streets were full of checkpoints and swarming with German soldiers, easily identifiable by the way they marched in formation with the gawdy, red armbands prominent on their arms.

There was nothing Harry could do for the muggles here, not without landing himself in severe trouble with the ICW and the British ministry.

As much as it pained him to do so, he waited until the sun rose before crossing over into the magic district, hoping his arrival would be less noticed in the light of day.

The magical side of the city had fared much worse than the muggle counterpart.

Scorch marks littered the pavement, buildings had been reduced to rubble, and even the bloodstains of the fallen remained as a reminder to those that lived here what awaited them if they offered resistance.

It sickened Harry, and though he couldn't help the muggles, he was not so helpless here, but first he needed to scout the area, and when night fell, he would strike.

Grindelwald's men that were stationed here may feel that they were safe away from the front, but tonight, they would be in more danger than any in the trenches.

There was a Serpent amongst them, and many would die before they even knew it.

(Break)

Charlus was pacing around the room he shared with Harry, fretting over his friend who had absconded to do only what the man himself knew. He had offered his assistance, to no avail.

Harry had expressed his gratitude but reminded Charlus he needed someone to cover for him for the duration of his absence.

What worried the Potter lord more was that he didn't know how long Harry would be, nor where he had gone.

"Bloody hell," Charlus groaned.

"Something wrong?" a feminine voice broke into his thoughts, startling him.

"You scared the shit out of me," he gasped, glaring at Summerbee who was perched on the edge of Harry's bed. "What are you doing here?"

The woman grinned impishly, her eyes alight with mirth.

"I believe I have located your spy," she revealed. "Where's Evans?"

"He left in the middle of the night," Charlus sighed, "probably to do something dangerous."

"He went alone?" Eleanor asked. "Why didn't you stop him?"

Charlus chuckled darkly as he shook his head.

"You don't know Harry well enough," he mused aloud. "When he decides to do something, you can't change his mind."

"Stupid man," Summerbee huffed. "What do we do about this spy?"

Charlus frowned thoughtfully at the question.

"When did you discover him?"

"When you and Evans were discussing his plan to take back my country."

Charlus snorted.

"I suppose that was Harry's plan. He wants Grindelwald to know what he's planned."

"That seems reckless, even for Evans."

Charlus nodded his agreement.

"It is a red herring," he explained. "He's not stupid enough to attack somewhere he's expected."

"Are you sure?"

Charlus swallowed deeply at the question.

He wasn't, was he?

"No," he said firmly. "He wouldn't do that."

Eleanor breathed a sigh of relief.

"Good," she murmured. "What about the spy?"

"Do you know who he is?"

Eleanor shook her head.

"Not his name, but he's one of the French men. He spends a lot of time with their Commander."

"Fontaine?" Charlus muttered to himself, his eyes widening as everything fell into place.

The man had struck up a friendship with several members of the British Forces, Gilbert included who was not exactly the most subtle of people, especially when he'd had a few. Extracting information from him would take no effort.

"Bollocks," Charlus groaned.

"Should we take him in?" Eleanor asked excitedly.

Charlus shook his head.

"No, we should wait for Harry," he decided. "Fontaine is a second in command, and I doubt he will allow himself to be taken. It could get messy."

"If he comes back," Eleanor replied darkly.

Charlus nodded.

"He will," he said firmly, unsure whether he was trying to convince himself or the young brunette that had taken quite the shine to his friend.

(Break)

Harry looked on feeling no remorse as the man slowly choked on his own blood, his comeuppance much less than he'd deserved. For his deeds, five minutes of suffering was not enough.

He had watched as citizens were dragged from their homes and beaten in the streets by groups of 'aurors' that were meant to defend them, all for the purpose of entertainment, and because those in control knew they could get away with it.

Or so they thought.

The line had been drawn when a trio of Grindelwald's men had attempted to violate a young woman who was pleading for medicine for her sick mother.

She had been laughed at, mocked as she wept, and Harry's temper could no longer be kept in check.

He had seen enough.

The perpetrators had died begging pitifully for their lives, but there was no reprieve.

Harry had slaughtered them like the animals they were, and throughout the evening, several others had followed.

He knew not how many he had killed, had not even begun counting. As far as Harry was concerned, these men were reaping what they had sown.

Along the way, he had helped as many people as he could without drawing attention to them or himself.

The citizens were starving, given barely enough food to survive, and had long ago had their wands confiscated.

They had been helpless, a feeling that Harry remembered only too well from his years being locked in cupboard and starved.

His initial plan had been to cause chaos amongst Grindelwald's men, to remind them that they would never be safe so long as he roamed the night, but it had evolved as the evening had progressed.

Harry would not leave these people in these conditions.

Even if he had to kill every last man here that had given their allegiance to Grindelwald, these people would be free of them.

His latest victim finally perished, and Harry turned his attention towards the Ministry building.

The rest would be in there, waiting for their turn to inflict misery on the people here, something Harry would not allow any longer.

Releasing a deep breath, he set to work imbuing the stones around the entrance with his magic, with only one intention.

Any who exited would die a most unpleasant death.

With his preparations completed, he vanished in a plume of golden flames, appearing on a roof that offered him the perfect view of what was to come.

Now, he needed only to garner the attention of those within.

He smirked as he opened his trunk and retrieved something he'd vowed to keep for sentimental reasons, but he could think of no better way to honour the creators.

The twins would certainly have approved.

Having lit the box, Harry threw it onto the street below and waited.

A series of bangs that none in the city would be able to ignore rattled the windows in their frames, and the floor trembled as a myriad of creatures erupted from the fireworks Fred and George had created took to the sky, illuminating the entire magical district.

In a matter of moments, men began to pour from the building, as citizens left their homes to bear witness to the phenomenon taking place.

The former, however, were granted little time to appreciate the magic on display.

The fiery creatures converged on them; many being engulfed in flames that would not be snuffed.

Those that had the sense to flee made it barely half-a-dozen steps before being faced with Harry who implemented a plethora of curses to put an end to them, his presence unnoticed in the ensuing chaos.

"You!" he hissed as he came upon a familiar blonde, one he had vowed to kill so many months before now.

The man eyed him fearfully but was given no chance to respond as his throat and tongue were ripped from his body.

More fell after him.

All those that were not severely burned by the dragons, phoenixes, or any other creature the twins had managed to create were cut ruthlessly down by the marauding Hit-Wizard who was intent to see an end to the madness here.

Harry couldn't be certain how long he fought, how many more fell to him, or how many more would come, but he kept casting.

He dodged and weaved around the few rebuttals sent his way, but it was already too late for Grindelwald's men.

The Serpent had come for them, and even as streets lay swathed with bodies, smeared with more blood, and only shocked, emaciated men, women, and children remained, Harry was ready for more.

That vengeful part of him was difficult to sate, and though he'd had his share of blood for one night, that cold, relentless part of him was ready for more.

But there was none.

Around him, fires burned, and the smell of the dead and dying filled the air with the smoke.

"Where are your wands?" he asked the men and women who stared at him in a mixture of awe and fear.

"In there," one answered in broken English, a look of disbelief prominent across his features.

He was pointing to the Ministry building, and with a nod, Harry entered, his own wand poised and ready to eliminate any others that may have been within.

There were none, and he found the collection of wands in an office that, according to the plaque, once belonged to the Minister.

The man would be long dead now, likely at the hands of Grindelwald if he refused to comply with the Dark Lord's wishes.

Harry shook his head as he left the building and placed the wands in front of the gathered crowd.

"I would suggest you activate the defences, if you know how to," he urged.

"Karlos can do it," the man who had spoken earlier assured him. "What happens now?"

Harry frowned at the question.

"That is your choice," he replied. "If you think you will be safe to stay, then do so if you wish, but I would recommend leaving. Grindelwald will come back, and he will find a way in."

The man nodded his understanding.

"Thank you," he said gratefully. "You saved our lives. We tried to resist but…"

His sentence dropped, the subject of what had been done to this man and the rest of his people an understandably difficult one to address.

"Who are you?" a woman asked curiously.

"My name is unimportant," Harry said dismissively. "What matters is that you are now free."

The woman spat towards one of the corpses, and Harry turned away to head towards the exit that would take him back into the muggle world, a place still occupied by invaders.

"You're leaving?" the man called after him.

Harry nodded.

"You will too if you're smart. I wouldn't take too long about it either."

With a final wave of his wand, his bastardised Hallows symbol that Grindelwald was so proud of took the place of the fireworks that had burned out now, the green flames lighting the streets below.

It was a reminder to Grindelwald that The Serpent was still here, that his men were not safe from him wherever they were in the world.

If only Harry could see the man's reaction when he learned of what happened here tonight.

It would be quite the sight, and a memory that would be revisited often.

No, Harry would not be here, and if everything had gone according to plan, none would ever know he'd even left the trenches.

He gave a final glance at his mark before vanishing.

Prague was now free of Grindelwald and his men, and though Harry expected there to be reprisals, he would not allow the prospect of more fighting in the future to ruin the temporary triumph he was feeling.