To War Once More

It seemed that every time he stood before his peers of the ICW, he had to be the bearer of bad news, the latest to reach him from Belgium serving to concern him as much as it gave him the opportunity he needed to broach a subject some may disagree with.

The Supreme Mugwump cared not.

The war could not be allowed to continue in this vein, and with the lack of cooperation amongst the leaders of the various forces, something needed to change.

"I wish it was with better tidings that I gathered us here today, but I fear it is only unsettling news I bring," he sighed, bringing the meeting to order. "I have received word, that despite being urged not to, the Spanish forces have abandoned their post in Belgium to return home."

The other representatives of the ICW murmured amongst themselves, most shooting looks of displeasure at the Spaniard in the room who would not meet the gaze of any, choosing to look straight ahead defiantly.

"Fools, they will get themselves killed," the Greek representative called heatedly. "They cannot hope to stand against Grindelwald alone."

"Then the others should have joined them!" the Spaniard snapped.

"And lose the position we have?" the Portuguese representative asked. "They should have remained where they were, as have the other men whose countries are currently occupied."

His words received shouts of agreements, the others in the room unhappy with the latest development.

"Unfortunately, we have no authority to stop them doing what they choose to," Abreo sighed irritably. "We must assume the worst, and that we will be absent their number of men in the coming days."

"So, you will allow them to be killed?" the Spaniard demanded to know.

"They have chosen to act against their better judgement!" Abreo growled. "I would not expect any of the other men to risk their lives for their sake. We must hold Belgium, not split our forces to take a country surrounded by other occupied ones. It is a foolish endeavour."

"It is," Doge agreed, "but we cannot do without them," he pointed out. "Those men make up a significant number of our forces."

The Spaniard seemed to be quite smug as the other representatives begrudgingly admitted that Doge had spoken the truth.

"The problem you face is that you have no authority over your men," the Russian Minister of Magic broke in.

It was not often he offered anything during the meetings, but he seemed keen to speak his mind now. Although Russia was not a part of the ICW, his opinion was valued, as were the efforts of his men who had proven to be excellent allies.

"What would you suggest?" Abreo questioned, hoping the man intended to lead them to the conclusion he himself had reached several days ago now.

"I can only speak for myself," the Russian began, "but my men are loyal to my son because he is a strong leader, who leads them by example and leaves no room for argument. The way I see it, you have too many leaders, most of whom are incompetent buffoons."

As much as the other representatives did not appreciate the comment, the Supreme Mugwump was in agreement.

The war had barely begun, and yet, many of the problems he found himself dealing with was unrest amongst the leaders, the incidents between them becoming more common.

"So, you believe we need a leader?" Abreo questioned.

The Russian nodded.

"Da, you need someone all your men will follow, someone they can look to for guidance and to lead them from the front. We are politicians who are not in the midst of the fighting. There needs to be a man in the thick of it to make decisions based on what they see and experience."

The Supreme Mugwump cheered internally, pleased that it hadn't had to be him to mention it.

"I think that would be for the best," he mused aloud. "A Commander in Chief with the authority to ensure men are not abandoning their posts, and to lead us to victory. Any suggestions?"

"Well, I think we can discount the Spanish," the Canadian representative declared, "along with the Commander of the French forces."

Abreo nodded his agreement and the Russian huffed.

"Let us not pretend that it should be any other than Commander Evans," he urged. "He has effectively been leading the men. It was his idea to take Belgium and is the one those around him look to when the fighting begins."

Some of the other representatives appeared to be put out that their own Commanders were being dismissed from consideration so easily, but there truly was no argument to be made.

Evans was everything the Russian had said and more.

"Would your men follow him?"

The Russian nodded thoughtfully.

"Da, he has earned the respect of my son and the rest of my countrymen. I believe he is the best man for the position."

"Are there any objections?" Abreo questioned.

Much to his surprise, it was the British representative who raised his hand.

"I do not have any objections as such, but I do believe we must discuss and put in place a firm description of the role and the powers Evans shall wield in it. He, along with the others will want clarity of what this position will entail and the type of authority he holds."

Abreo nodded along with the others.

He had been pondering this very thing and would lay out his owns thoughts to his peers.

If he was fortunate, such a move would not only prevent further unpleasantness amongst the Commanders, but it would ensure there was cohesion amongst the rest.

Currently, the command structure was sloppy, and it allowed occurrences such as the Spanish leaving as and when they pleased.

With the growing threat of Grindelwald, this could no longer be allowed.

If they wished to have any hope of victory, the men needed to fight as one, and the best chance of that happening was having a leader with the authority in place to ensure that happened.

(Break)

He woke with a start and sat up instantly, his breathing coming in short and sharp bursts. Turning so that he was sitting on the edge of his bed, he did all he could to calm himself, and the serpent that had been startled by his sudden awakening.

A peaceful night was something that had eluded Harry for most of his life, but his inability to rest easily only seemed to have gotten worse since he returned to Britain.

He took a deep breath as he felt a pair of arms wrap around him from behind and leaned into the embrace, the warmth welcoming.

"Harry?" Minerva questioned sleepily.

"I'm okay," he assured her.

She held him tighter as she shook her head.

"No, you're not. What is it?"

That was the question he'd asked himself many times, and yet, he found no answers.

Was he slowly being broken down by the war he was fighting, his conscience punishing him for all the lives he'd taken?

No, it wasn't that.

Death had become as familiar to him as breathing, and it didn't play on his mind anymore, but he couldn't claim the silence did not bother him.

Silence was not a good thing when living in a warzone, something that seemed to plague him even in the safety of his own home.

It left him unable to relax, feeling on edge, and that danger was lurking somewhere nearby.

Logically, and in his rational mind, he knew it wasn't true, but it was a feeling that he couldn't shake.

It was odd.

Rarely did he sleep without hearing the screams of dying men echoing in his mind, smelling death, and bodily fluids oozing from the corpses he'd cut down and trudged through.

Still, it was the silence that bothered him most.

"I don't know," he answered eventually. "I just don't sleep peacefully anymore."

Minerva's grip tightened around him a little more, and she pressed her lips to his cheek.

Somehow, he felt better for it, her presence calming him when his own mind couldn't.

"Sorry," he murmured.

"Sorry?"

"For waking you."

Minerva huffed before sliding herself onto his lap and wrapping her arms around his neck.

She was a beautiful woman, and even now Harry had to do his best to ignore that she wasn't wearing anything. There was no inhibition to Minerva, and she even smirked noticing Harry was trying to keep his gaze firmly on her own.

"I don't ever want you to apologise for that again," she all but demanded. "I know you better than anyone, Harry. You don't have to hide from me."

Harry nodded his understanding and Minerva rolled her eyes before kissing him, taking a handful of his hair, and deepening it hungrily.

Sometime later, Harry was lying against his pillows with Minerva's head resting on his chest, both tired and content, but knowing they couldn't go back to sleep.

Harry needed to prepare for his return to Belgium, and Minerva would need to leave for Hogwarts soon, their time together having been too brief for them both.

"Is it selfish that I want to keep you all to myself?" Minerva asked. "That I don't want you to go back there?"

Harry wasn't so much taken aback by the question as he was the tear he felt running down his side.

Minerva wasn't one to cry, and he found that he didn't care for it, her tears only making his impending departure harder to face.

With a shake of his head, he pulled her upwards until they were facing each other, and he gently pushed her hair away from her eyes that were full of utter misery and despair.

"No," he answered honestly using the pad of his thumb to dry her eyes as he cupped her cheek.

"It feels like it," Minerva whispered sadly.

"It isn't," Harry snorted. "If I didn't have to go back, I wouldn't, but…"

"You're needed," Minerva finished for him.

"Does it make me arrogant to think that?"

Minerva shook her head.

"No, Harry, not when it is true," she grumbled, "but I need you too, just, don't forget that when you're out there doing what you have to do."

"I won't," he promised.

Minerva searched his gaze for a moment and Harry could only guess what it was she was looking for, but she spoke no further words until she knew she could no longer remain laying in his arms.

The time for them to part had come, and though neither were happy, it was something they couldn't ignore or put off any longer.

Minerva dressed in silence and fixed her appearance so that she was once again the consummate professional, though the sadness and worry lingered in her eyes.

"Just, come home, Harry," she pleaded, giving him a final searing kiss before vanishing with a gentle pop.

Seeing her leave left an emptiness within Harry that he could do without, but he understood why she had done so suddenly.

It would only hurt them both to prolong it, and though he wanted nothing more than to comply with her wish to keep him to herself, now was not the time.

With a wave of his wand, he cleaned and straightened out his bed before showering and making his way to the kitchen for a final breakfast in Britain.

He kept his fare simple, his appetite not as veracious as it would normally be, and he sighed as an owl he didn't recognise arrived, carrying an envelope with a crest he knew only too well.

He hadn't even arrived in Belgium yet and the ICW were contacting him.

With a muttered curse, he broke the seal and unfurled the missive, his frown deepening as he read it.

To Commander Evans,

I would be grateful if you would join myself and your fellow Commanders at the ICW headquarters at 10am local time for a gathering before you return to your post.

I hope that your time away has proven to be fruitful.

Yours,

Pierre Abreo,

Supreme Mugwump of the International Confederation of Warlocks

"And so it begins," Harry muttered, clearing away his plate and summoning his trunk.

It was already nearing ten am in Switzerland, so he needed to leave now if he wished to make it to the meeting on time, though he couldn't help but wonder what the urgency was?

With a final look around his home, he disapparated, not knowing when he would see it again.

He entered the ICW building as he had done dozens of times before, already feeling the weight of the war settling on his shoulders again, his time away having granted him a slight reprieve.

Now, it felt that he had not been away at all, and as he was shown into the meeting room and took in the sight of the other Commanders, he longed for his bed once more and the woman he'd been sharing it with.

"Commander Evans," Abreo greeted him warmly. "Please, take a seat and we shall begin."

Harry did so, greeting the others with nods that were returned, most of them seemingly relieved that he was back.

"I will keep it brief, gentlemen," Abreo sighed. "With the Spanish forces having taken their leave, a meeting was held to discuss how we should proceed."

Harry frowned, noting the space normally occupied by the Spanish Commander was empty.

He had suspected the man and those that were under his command would not sit tight, but that didn't lessen his irritation.

The fools would get themselves killed, and Harry already felt the beginnings of a headache setting in.

They simply could not afford to lose so many men.

"What has been decided?" the Indian Commander questioned curiously.

"It has been decided that we can no longer be so divided amongst ourselves," Abreo answered. "The other representatives and I of the ICW have decided that there are some changes that need to be made, most of all to the command structure we currently have in place."

"So, we are no longer Commanders?" the Canadian asked.

"You will retain your positions," Abreo assured the man, and he along with the others breathed a collective sigh of relief.

Harry, however, suspected there was more to it and did not follow suit.

"With that being said, we feel that there is a need for someone to take the lead on the battlefield, someone with the authority to make decisions that will be followed without question."

"A Commander of the Commanders?" the Indian pressed.

Abreo nodded resolutely, his expression leaving no room for argument.

"There must be cooperation amongst you all, or we are going to lose this war, and everything we have fought for will be lost. Grindelwald will not stop until he achieves what he has set out to do, and he has already proven that he will do whatever it takes for that to happen. Human life is dispensable to him, and we must fight as one to overcome him and his followers."

All seated around the table had witnessed Grindelwald's disregard of life, and none offered any words of the contrary to the rest that Abreo had said.

"You have chosen someone," the Polish Commander stated.

"We discussed the matter in depth," Abreo assured them, "and the decision we reached was unanimous with even the Russian Minister in agreement.

"My father agreed?" Sokolov asked, surprised by the revelation.

Abreo nodded.

"He did. It was actually him that recommended the candidate we agreed upon. Commander Evans, please stand."

Every pair of eyes in the room landed on him, and as Harry stood, it was with even more weight being placed upon his shoulders, though with what he already carried, it was quite negligible.

Already he had taken the lead when he felt the need to, so this would be nothing new to him.

"The men look up to you, Evans," Abreo said sincerely. "It is you that many have turned to when they are lost, and it is you that has gone above and beyond to keep them as safe as they can be whilst confronting the most dangerous of foes. It is you that we have chosen to be our Commander in Chief, the one we entrust our entire forces to during this most difficult and perilous of times."

As he spoke, Abreo removed Harry's Commander stripes from the sleeve of his robes and replaced it with another emblem, this one depicting the crest of the ICW with two wands crossing through it. Instead of having three stripes, he now had four with two decorative leaves surrounding them.

Harry could only nod as Abreo took him by the shoulders.

"I have every confidence in you, Evans," he said, his voice barely heard over the applause of the other Commanders, excluding the Frenchman who was evidently not pleased by Harry's appointment.

"Commander Evans has an authority that only my own is equivalent to in the ICW. He will lead you, assign you and your men tasks, reward you, and even punish you, if necessary," Abreo explained to the other Commanders. "His word is final, and his authority absolute. I will leave it to him to choose his own assistant from amongst you, something I'm sure he will do in due course. You are free to leave, gentlemen, and please do explain this development to your men."

The other Commanders stood, offering their own congratulations as they passed.

"They made the right choice," the Portuguese man praised, shaking Harry's hand, and offering him a smile.

"Rather you than me," the Canadian commented with a chuckle, clapping him smartly on the back.

The Frenchman pointedly ignored Harry who couldn't care less what he thought.

His mind was already distracted by the first problem he faced in his new position, and that was what he planned to do about the wayward Spanish forces.

Harry knew he didn't have long to ponder it, but he could not rush into anything without considering his next move carefully.

"Was there something else, Commander Evans?" Abreo questioned.

Harry realised the others had left and he had remained standing where he was.

"I don't suppose I can decline the position?"

Abreo snorted amusedly.

"You could," he replied, "but then that would mean someone else would be given it and you would be beholden to them."

Harry grimaced at the thought.

"We chose you because we believe you are the right man for the job, Harry, and I stand by that decision."

Harry could only nod in response.

It was not a position he'd relish but based on the behaviour of some of the other Commanders, he wouldn't trust them to take it.

They were either too arrogant and cocksure of themselves or had proven to be poorly equipped at keeping their cool during times of conflict.

Cursing under his breath at the truth of the Frenchman's words, Harry too left the room and apparated to the apothecary he had left behind only a week ago, his nose wrinkling at the familiar smell of stale potion ingredients.

"Thank Merlin you're back," Charlus grumbled, pulling him into a tight embrace before Harry had even caught his bearings. "Don't ever leave me in this position again."

Harry laughed heartily, taking more than a little glee in the news he had for his friend, though when he met the questioning look of Charlus, he was pulled back to the conversation he'd shared with William only yesterday.

"You do not wish to say goodbye to them?" he had asked the former Potter lord incredulously.

"They have mourned for me already, Harry," William sighed. "It would only open up their wounds, and I do not wish them to see me like this. I'd rather they remember me for the man I was, not some apparition summoned by a stone."

It made Harry feel guilty for bringing the man back, albeit briefly.

Surprisingly, William had taken the revelation of who he was rather well, more pleased that his instinct of them being closer related than he thought right than angry that Harry had not told him.

"Should I tell them who I am?"

William offered him a sad smile before shaking his head.

"Perhaps one day the time will be right, Harry, but if what you have told me is true, do you wish to risk things being different than they were? I know that you will do what you must to save your parents, but would you risk everything else for the sake of something that matters little? Charlus sees you as a brother, and my wife treats you like a son. You are already family in their eyes."

"So, I should wait?"

William nodded.

"I think it best that certain things still come to pass, though I would ask that you continue to watch over them, Harry. Keep them safe where I no longer can."

Harry nodded his understanding.

"I will," he promised.

William, or whatever he was in this moment, had pulled him into his arms.

"I am so proud of you, my boy," he whispered. "You may not carry the name right now, but you are a Potter through and through. Never forget that, and the name you are known by will not matter."

In truth, the conversation had been a bittersweet one, but Harry felt the better for it.

William was right.

Harry did not wish to influence what may or may not come for his family unless it would prove to be detrimental to them.

He still hoped that Charlus and Dorea would marry, and that James and Lily would find their way to each other, but his interference could prove to be foolish.

"Harry?" Charlus called, his expression one of concern.

"Sorry, I got distracted by something," he said dismissively. "Besides, you'll have to remain as Commander," he sighed dramatically.

"What do you mean?"

"It's your new permanent position," Harry explained as he turned his sleeve to show Charlus the new emblem and stripes he wore.

"Why do I have a feeling I'm not going to like this?" Charlus grumbled irritably.

"Because you won't," Harry returned with a grin. "You'll hate it just as much as I hate my own."

"You'd better explain to me what the hell has happened," Charlus demanded.

Harry chuckled amusedly.

At least something entertaining would come out of the day.

(Break)

For a fleeting second, she'd believed that she had woken up holding on to Harry once more but had realised all too soon that it was a pillow in her arms to which she had clung.

A poor substitute to say the least.

Minerva found herself in her own bed, something she didn't care for.

It had done little for her already maudlin mood, and as she went about getting ready for the day ahead, she found herself missing Harry more than she thought possible.

The past week had come and gone too quickly for her liking, a welcome surprise that had ended before she felt it had truly begun.

As much as she had enjoyed it, it wasn't the heights of the physical intimacy they had reached together that she missed, but his presence, and knowing he was safe when he was with her.

It sounded ridiculous in her own mind to think that way, but it was the truth.

When Harry was with her, there was no need for the heroics he was prone to, no one for him to fight. He could just be himself, the sweet, caring, and funny man into whom he had grown.

Minerva wasn't foolish enough to think there wasn't the other side to him he was known for, the ruthless, and even dangerous man he needed to be, but when they were together, he didn't have to be that man.

She frowned as Albus slid the morning edition of The Daily Prophet in front of her, the plate of toast she'd been staring at left untouched.

Harry Evans: Commander in Chief

The article explained that Harry had been voted by the ICW to take an overall command position of all of the forces fighting against Grindelwald, something she knew that Harry would not enjoy.

Already, the world was looking to him to solve their problems, and Minerva couldn't help but wonder when it would end?

When would someone else step up and start taking some responsibility?

Already she worried for him, and though she was proud of all he'd done, no one else saw him as she had the previous morning when he'd woken up.

He wouldn't outright admit it, but the war was taking its toll on him, and he had been lumbered with only more responsibility.

She shook her head sadly.

To the rest of the world, he was an unstoppable, a saviour of sorts that would see them through the dark times they were facing, but Minerva knew him.

Harry would do what he believed was best in the fight against Grindelwald, she just did not wish for it to be at his own expense.

Still, she was proud of him and couldn't think of any other more deserving of the praise she could hear the students showering upon him as once more his was name on their lips as they learned of the latest development in the war against Grindelwald.

Harry had made an impression on them when he'd visited, one she hoped would last and deter any would be Dark Lords from following in Grindelwald's footsteps, though as she watched Tom Riddle storm angrily from the room, she had her doubts.

(Break)

"What are you going to do, Harry?" Charlus asked.

The man was poring over the latest missives he'd received throughout the day whilst he'd made his rounds to the men, most congratulating him on his new position, in no doubt that the ICW had made the right decision.

"About the Spanish or the war?" Harry grumbled.

"Both."

Harry leaned back in his chair and rubbed his eyes before looking upon Charlus, Arcturus, Yaxley, and Gilbert who had all been at his side since he returned and nodded thoughtfully.

"I will deal with the Spanish," he huffed, though he didn't go into any further detail on the matter. "With the war, we cannot afford to be idle much longer. We will proceed as discussed before I left. It's no good trying to take France or Spain back at the moment. Grindelwald will have them heavily occupied, and we would lose too many."

"So, we head east?"

Harry nodded.

"Starting with the Netherlands before we head north into Denmark and Norway," he explained, dragging a finger along the map showing the intended route. "As much as we can, we need to keep our territories connected. I will be liaising with the Russians on this. They know these lands better than any."

"Does that mean we won't have to go into the cold?" Gilbert asked hopefully.

"Maybe," Harry replied thoughtfully. "I will speak with Petr and see what he suggests, but first, we will need to take the Netherlands. I will meet with the other commanders tomorrow and instruct them to prepare. You should all do the same."

"Now?" Arcturus questioned.

"There's no time like the present."

With a nod, the men began filing from the room.

"Not you, Charlus nor you Reg."

The two men waited for the others to depart, each looking at Harry questioningly.

"Would I be right in thinking you have chosen Reg to be your second in command?"

Charlus nodded.

"He likes the job as much as you do," he chuckled, "but it should be him."

"It should," Harry agreed. "There will be changes happening around here, ones that are needed. I want you both to keep Black in the loop also, maybe show him how things work so that he can fill in if one of you are away for a time."

"We can do that," Charlus agreed. "What about Gilbert?"

Harry shook his head.

"He has already ballsed things up more than once. I trust him, but not to be in charge of others."

Yaxley snorted.

"I wouldn't either."

"Anyway, I will meet with the commanders tomorrow, and with Sokolov. Some people may not like it, but I'm going to name him my second in command. He has a significant portion of our men under him, and he has proven himself capable."

"It's a good choice," Charlus agreed.

The Russian was well-thought-of by all he had spoken to and would do right by Harry.

"That's everything for now," Harry sighed. "Make sure they're all ready. I don't plan on waiting long before I act."

With a nod, Charlus and Reg left the room.

"Are you pissed off he didn't choose you?" Yaxley asked.

Charlus snorted as he shook his head.

"Not at all," he replied honestly. "Some won't like that he's chosen Sokolov, but they would have hated it more if he chose me. Harry needs to bring everyone together, and it would have looked like he would have picked me because I'm his friend. Sokolov is the right man for the job. He's been in charge of the Russian defences for years."

"Well, you could have picked someone else," Reg grumbled.

"And miss seeing you miserable? I don't think so," Charlus chuckled, eliciting a muttered curse from the other man.

(Break)

"This is incredible," Tom whispered.

"It is," Helena agreed with a hint of bitterness to her voice. "My mother worked for years creating this room. It was all she cared about for the longest time."

Tom was barely listening to the ghost as she spoke of her woes. Never would he have guessed that such a room existed within the castle. Already he was considering the potential it had, the boon it would be to him for his remaining time here.

"You wanted somewhere private to study, and you won't find anywhere better than here," Helena sighed.

From this discovery alone, Tom knew the hours he had spent speaking to the ghost had been worth it. Here, he could access knowledge that he couldn't find in the library, the book he had picked off the shelf at random one that would not be allowed.

For the first time since arriving at Hogwarts, he felt that he would be able to reach his potential. What was covered in classes he was already years ahead in no longer mattered.

Now, his education could truly begin.

"Thank you," he said sincerely. "I know this place must be quite difficult for you to face, but I appreciate you sharing it with me."

Helena smiled sadly.

"It may as well be put to use," she replied. "My mother dedicated so much time to it."

"At your expense."

Helena nodded.

"At my expense," she murmured.

Tom had been in quite a foul mood before being shown the hidden room on the seventh floor, the students once more discussing Harry Evans and how great they thought he was.

It sickened him.

As far as Tom was concerned, the man had gotten lucky by killing a dragon, and now everyone sung his praises as though he was the second coming of Merlin.

It was pathetic, and Tom had grown tired of hearing the man's name.

His nostrils flared at the thought of Evans, the memory of the coward sending spells at a child as he fled making his temper rise.

He took a calming breath and reminded himself to bide his time.

Evans would live to regret what he had done, and with this room at his disposal, Tom would learn more than enough to make him pay.

It wasn't the chamber of secrets that he'd hoped for, but it was a start, and Tom was not one to squander the opportunity he had been presented with.

"Would you like to leave?" he asked Helena gently.

The woman nodded and Tom led her from the room.

It would not do to appear uncaring now, not when there was so much more he could take from her.

The room was going nowhere, and Tom would explore it later.

For now, he had a façade to maintain.

The Room of Requirement was just the beginning.

Soon enough, he'd unlock more secrets of Hogwarts than any other that had come before him had.

(Break)

It was raining in Madrid, and still the buildings were smoking from the recent battle that had taken place here. The dead littered the streets, most of them wearing similar robes to the ones Harry adorned, the very same that had been provided to them by the ICW.

Amongst the corpses of the Spanish forces were some of Grindelwald's men also, but there were far fewer.

It was clear who had gotten the better of the exchange and Harry could only release a deep breath of irritation at the loss.

"Idiots," he mumbled.

Checking that he was still covered by his invisibility cloak, he walked through the streets of the magical district, the number of corpses only increasing the further he went.

It wasn't only the fighting men that had died here tonight, but many citizens, women and children included.

They had chosen to fight against Grindelwald rather than submit to his regime, something Harry could respect, but it left him feeling no less frustrated.

The Spanish should have waited.

Now had not been the time to strike back and they had learned that the hard way.

Harry paused as he heard a voice in the distance before quickening his pace and heading towards it.

It was a voice he had come to know well though not for good reasons, and when he turned into the adjoining street and laid eyes on the pale man, his nostrils flared in anger.

Grindelwald was standing in front of the Spanish Ministry, the surviving men of the Spanish forces on their knees in front of him with their hands bound behind their backs as the man himself addressed a large crowd that had seemingly been forced to gather.

Surrounding them all in their hundreds were Grindelwald's followers, each with their wands drawn as they lined the street and even the rooftops in droves making any attempt to intervene an impossibility.

Harry could only look on at what was to unfold, helpless.

"I did not want this," Grindelwald. "I want there to be peace and unity amongst us, but these men insisted on violence. Too many lost their lives this evening, and it saddens me that it has come to this. The question I pose to you all is what should be done with them?"

"KILL THEM!" a voice demanded, the sentiment echoed by Grindelwald's followers as they loudly and proudly called for the execution of the Spanish forces.

The Dark Lord held up his hands to silence the jeering and shook his head.

"No, there has been so much death already, but I cannot simply let them go free."

From beneath his cloak, Harry frowned at the man.

It was unlike him to be diplomatic, so what was his intentions?

"I shall let you all live," he declared, the citizens whispering amongst themselves, breathing a collective sigh of relief. "Let it be known that I am a merciful man who seeks peace and prosperity for us all. These men will be spared their lives, however, I cannot allow them to be free. I do hope that you will all see the error of your way in time. Until then, you will be my prisoners," he explained to the bound men. "They will be treated well, on that, I give my most solemn word."

Although the citizens were not pleased by the outcome, they accepted it over the alternative, but Harry was not convinced.

Grindelwald was not known for his mercy, and as he leaned towards Hans Gaulitier to offer the man some private words, the smile of the latter did not bode well for the Spanish men, and Harry couldn't help but think that whatever they faced, death would be preferable.

Despite knowing what he was doing was foolish, he was compelled to follow as the men were led from the street by an escort of two-dozen of Grindelwald's followers and grabbed the robes of one of the Spaniards as they were portkeyed away.

Immediately, Harry noticed the sharp drop in temperature, the mild Spanish weather giving way to a much harsher climate of wind and icy rain and the streets being replaced by a mountainous landscape.

The weather, however, paled in comparison to the oppressive feel of magic emanating from a large tower only a short distance away.

It had been hewn from the surrounding rocks, its surfaced smoothed and small slits added to serve as windows.

Harry had no doubt that this was Grindelwald's work, his senses overwhelmed by the enchantments at play, so much so that it felt almost difficult to simply draw breath easily.

How this construct had been created, he knew not, but what he could be certain of was that getting in would be easy but getting out would present a problem.

The prison was designed that purposely, and Harry had no intention of discovering how difficult it would be to free himself from there.

If he was to avoid seeing what remained of the Spanish forces imprisoned within those walls, he needed to act, and though the odds were still not in his favour, the ICW forces had need of every man.

He watched as what remained of the Spanish forces were led towards the prison, the rain and wind making the path that had been carved towards it difficult to walk.

With visibility as poor as it was, he used the conditions to his advantage, drawing his wand and muttering.

His work needed to be precise and not draw unwanted attention to him.

It would not do well to find himself on the wrong end of so many wands at once.

The two guards at the rear of the column dropped suddenly, their bodies sliding down the slippery path, both with stone spikes impaled into the middle of their foreheads.

Harry quickly banished them over the edge of the mountain, relieved to see that his attack had gone unnoticed, due in no small part to the unpleasant conditions up here.

He continued using the wind to cover his offensive move, successfully taking down others along the column, and much to his relief, the prisoners that noticed what was happening did not draw attention to themselves, remaining silent as they looked around questioningly.

All was going well until he came to the last six guards, one of the men turning away as Harry aimed his projectile, only for it to catch him in the shoulder, eliciting a scream that was not so easily ignored.

It rang out over the howling wind, alerting the rest of the escorts who looked to see what the commotion was about.

With little else he could do, Harry banished the body of the man he had killed and hoped that the other missing men wouldn't be noticed, a foolish hope he knew, and one that proved to be so as the man that led Grindelwald's followers became very animated.

"SOUND THE ALARM!" he shouted, his eyes scanning the area for any sign of the attacker.

"Bollocks," Harry grumbled as one of the men sprinted towards the prison to carry out the instruction.

After one mishap, and only a few seconds, the situation Harry faced had become urgent.

He needed to act before more of Grindelwald's men arrived, and in that vein, he went on the attack, curse after curse leaving his wand as he attempted to put an end to remaining men that stood between him and liberating the remnants of the Spanish forces.

The prisoners threw themselves to the ground in panic, their arms still bound and having no means to defend themselves.

Fortunately for Harry, the guards had not expected such a brazen attack, and three fell quickly, though two had defended themselves well.

Still, there was no time for a prolonged duel.

The man that was sprinting towards the prison had almost reached it, and there was no time to waste.

With that in mind, Harry sprinted towards the final two guards, drawing the knife Nicholas had gifted him and ramming it into the stomach of the first guard he came to from beneath his cloak, though the other had spotted his legs protruding from the bottom.

Harry barely managed to divert the searing curse that had been sent his way in time before he sprung into action once more, transfiguring a nearby rock into a wolf that pulled the man to the ground by his extended arm as he readied another attack.

He screamed as the wolf mauled him, and Harry set to work as a loud alarm began blaring from the prison.

Removing his cloak, he began untying prisoners, telling those he freed to assist whilst he went to work turning some large boulders into portkeys.

After less than two minutes, he heard shouting in the distance as more men arrived and he took aim at one of the cliffs, collapsing a sizeable portion of it so the debris blocked the path they had walked.

It wouldn't keep them at bay for long, but would buy him some valuable seconds, as would the sheet of ice he created behind it.

"COME ON!" he encouraged the Spaniards who were still working at freeing one another. "MOVE YOUR BLOODY ARSES!"

Harry was soaked through, shivering as another gust of wind blew through the pass, and he breathed a sigh of relief as the last of the prisoners were finally freed.

They charged towards him, some losing their footing in the dirt, but they eventually made it as the debris behind them were swept away.

"THE BOULDERS!" he instructed, pointing to the three large portkeys he had created.

The men swarmed towards them, those that couldn't touch the large rocks grabbing and clinging to someone that was, and Harry ensured they would all be transported before he joined them, his eyes widening as he spotted Grindelwald stalking towards them with his wand poised, an expression of fury marring his features.

The spell that headed towards them was one he didn't recognise, a bright, blinding blue that promised nothing but suffering for any it touched.

Knowing the portkeys wouldn't activate in time, he apparated ahead of his men, and threw everything he had into diverting the spell away from them, the side of the mountain taking the brunt of it.

"GO!" he instructed.

The prisoners didn't need telling twice and vanished only a second later as the entire ridge around them began to tremble and large shards of rock began raining down from above.

Despite this, Harry and Grindelwald stared at one another, and though Harry wanted nothing more than to strike the man down, he remembered his promise to Minerva.

Here, he was outnumbered considerably, and as he became aware of Grindelwald's men nearing the Dark Lord, and more approaching from behind him, he knew now was not the right time.

All that would be achieved was his death, and he would not fall to Grindelwald, not when there were so many other things yet to live for.

It was frustrating for the younger of the two men, and with a growl, he replaced his wand in its holster, his nostrils flaring as he nodded to his foe before activating his own portkey.

He had partially done what he'd set out to do, and though most of the Spanish forces had been wiped out, he'd managed to salvage something from their stupidity.

"Harry?" Charlus questioned worriedly, evidently having realised he had left sometime during his absence.

"Ready the men," he instructed. "We move tomorrow."

Charlus merely nodded in response and left the room and Harry threw a chair against the wall in frustration.

He had perhaps squandered a chance to put an end to Grindelwald, but tomorrow, his campaign to take from the man what he had worked so hard to obtain would begin.

The tide of the war would soon change, and he and Grindelwald would meet again soon, just not soon enough in Harry's eyes.