A Promise Kept - Chapter 50 - The Returning Past

The Returning Past

She scowled at the box Harry had gifted her for Christmas. Thus far, she’d been unable to unravel the mystery of the magic he’d used to seal it, but Gabrielle was nothing if not determined to figure it out and discover what was within.

She would manage it. Perhaps it was already taking her longer than she’d like, and she’d allowed her frustration to get the better of her, but she would not give up.

Her mother shot her a look of amusement, and Gabrielle huffed before placing the box on the table, pouting as she continued eating her breakfast.

Trust Harry Potter to give her such a gift.

“What is it?” her mother asked as her father entered the kitchen.

Gabrielle had rarely seen her father so grave.

He’d sported the same expression when he’d explained what had happened the night of the final task during the Triwizard tournament, but now, he said nothing as he placed a copy of the morning paper in front of them.

Gabrielle gasped at the sight of it.

Lord Voldemort Returns: Potter Vs Dark Lord in Ministry of Magic Showdown!

The accompanying images showed a rather blurry photo of the Dark Lord, but it was the destruction of the Ministry of Magic building that caught Gabrielle’s attention.

Between the two of them, there was little left of the atrium, and she wondered how it was still standing.

Shaking her head, she looked towards her father, who offered her a reassuring smile.

“He is well,” he placated. “By all accounts, he more than held his own.”

Gabrielle swallowed deeply as she began reading what had transpired, her eyes widening at the second article that was attached to the first.

Potter Sends Dementors Fleeing!

She read of the attack on Godric’s Hollow, of how a swarm of Dementors had arrived whilst Harry was there to give to those less fortunate, and how he used a Patronus Charm to defend the village.

‘It became really cold, and Lord Potter, well, he went outside and chased them away. There must’ve been a hundred of them at least, and he protected us all.’

“Seems as though he had quite the night,” her mother commented soberly.

Gabrielle could only nod before she stood, her appetite all but gone.

“I need to write to him,” she declared, hurrying from the kitchen, and to her room, where the less frustrating box he’d gifted her a couple of years prior was waiting.

Frantically, she scrawled a note to the boy, asking for an explanation, and whether or not he truly was okay, well, as best as he could be, given the circumstances.

When she was done, she closed the lid of the box and frowned thoughtfully.

Harry must’ve known.

He had to have known that Voldemort wasn’t truly dead, and that the Dark Lord would one day come for him. How he had lived with such knowledge, Gabrielle didn’t know, but it wasn’t as though Harry had not been preparing for it.

She hadn’t been alive during the last war, but she’d heard the stories of just how terrible a time it had been and how feared Voldemort had become.

Harry had been the one to bear the brunt of the aftermath his entire life, and now, he would be living it once more.

Gabrielle knew him. She knew that he would not sit idly by while the man who murdered his father ran rampant across Britain, doing much the same to others in his grasp for power.

No, he would very much be at the centre of it all, and it terrified her to think that at any time, a newspaper could arrive announcing the death of the boy.

(Break)

‘The Ministry of Magic is closed to the public until further notice, and Members and all are warned not to approach the Dark Lord under any circumstances, but if he is seen, to report immediately to the Auror office…’

“The Aurors?” Tom, the owner of The Leaky Cauldron scoffed. “They’d be better off calling Potter. He’ll see the bastard right!”

Harry snorted to himself as he nursed his cup of coffee.

He was currently disguised as a middle-aged man with a rather prominent limp, having taken just a little inspiration from Alastor Moody. He needed to see the fallout for himself, just how much would change in a matter of hours after the country at large learned of Voldemort’s return.

First, however, he needed the coffee he held.

He’d yet to sleep, and he doubted he would for some time yet.

With the adrenaline dump he’d experienced after the fight with Riddle, he’s been exhausted, but his mind would not allow him to rest. Instead, he had finished helping Croaker with cleaning up the mess he’d help make before arriving here as it opened for breakfast.

Not having much of an appetite, he’d opted for a pot of coffee, and he was on his fourth and final cup.

Fighting Riddle had not been his best idea, that he could admit, but having done so, Harry was glad for the rather rash decision. If nothing else, it had given him a boost in confidence, the knowledge that Voldemort was not unbeatable, but there was no denying he truly was as incredibly gifted as he was dangerous.

Nonetheless, Harry had chosen to stand his ground and learned more than he could’ve hoped for from the encounter.

With an appreciative nod, he placed some coins on the bar before exiting via the rear, tapping the brick wall in the right places to gain access to the alley on the other side.

It was all but empty.

The few that had ventured here moved quickly, ignoring the others whom they might usually greet, and continued on their way, not making eye contact with any.

“So, it begins,” Harry murmured, begin his own walk of the lengthy street.

Already, some of the shops had been closed with only a hurriedly written note explaining they would do so for the foreseeable future. Those that were open had undoubtedly had their security bolstered, and it appeared that some had even hired private security.

It was quite the change indeed, and Harry expected there would only be more in the coming days.

“What is your business here?” a surly, familiar Auror asked.

Dawlish.

The man looked exhausted, and though the weight of the world had been firmly placed on his shoulders.

“It’s a bloody free country, ain’t it?” Harry returned gruffly. “What’s it to you, you nosy sod?”

Dawlish opened his mouth to speak, but the woman accompanying him placed a hand on his forearm.

“It’s alright, sir. You can move along,” she said apologetically.

“I should bloody well think so,” Harry huffed, doing so at his leisure.

“The duffer probably doesn’t even know what’s happened,” he heard Dawlish chuckle. “He wouldn’t be so liberal with that tongue of his if he did.”

Harry merely shook his head as he pressed on, his thoughts wandering back to what had happened the previous evening, and to his mother, who would undoubtedly be waiting for him to return home.

Perhaps he’d been avoiding her since he’d left the Ministry.

Why, that was, Harry wasn’t sure, but he’d needed time to get his head around all that had transpired. Still, despite taking several hours after to truly think about it, little had become clearer, and he doubted it would.

Nonetheless, last night had been something of a victory for him. He had certainly gotten more out of the experience than the Dark Lord, and yet, Harry was under no illusion that he was any closer to putting an end to the war.

No, last night was merely one snatched moment in many to come, and he did not doubt that things would become exponentially worse before even beginning to get better.

With that in mind, he allowed his gaze to sweep once more around the almost deserted Diagon Alley before making his way towards the area he could activate his portkey.

Yes, this was only the beginning of what would be a most unpleasant war that had finally fallen upon the people of Great Britain.

(Break)

There was a part of him that was surprised when he’d received the summons for an emergency meeting of the Wizengamot, but truthfully, there was nothing else Fudge could do, given that the entire country, and likely the magical world, was aware of Voldemort’s return.

It wasn’t as though the Minister could simply bury his head in the sand in the hopes that the Dark Lord would disappear without further incident.

No, that certainly wasn’t the case, and as Cornelius Fudge entered the chambers of the Wizengamot, it was all but impossible to find any faith in the man.

As ever, he was flanked by both Umbridge and Malfoy, his skin pale, and the dark circle around his eyes prominent.

For Sirius’s part, he kept his gaze fixed on the blond, offering the man a knowing smirk.

Lucius too appeared to be troubled, a little shaky in his step, and seemingly wishing he was anywhere but here.

Sirius was not the only Lord or Lady watching the Malfoy patriarch.

No, many present would not have forgotten the man’s involvement during the last war, despite having been cleared of all charges. To those who understood, they knew that Lucius was guilty.

With a nod towards the him from Fudge, Pius Thicknesse used his gavel to silence the room, and looked on curiously to see what would unfold.

The Minister cleared his throat before speaking.

“I will not be taking questions. I am here to make a statement only pertaining to what transpired here last night. At around midnight, a disturbance was reported to be taking place within the Ministry of Magic. Arriving with the Aurors, and other senior members of staff, I witnessed the Dark Lord V-Voldemort in the midst of a violent altercation with Harry Potter. The Dark Lord fled quickly, and I have been in meetings and addressing the members of the press since. As things stand, we, the Ministry, are considering our options and how best to proceed with this most unexpected, and unpleasant return of the Dark Lord. Thank you.”

He gathered his things and left his seat, only to be stilled by Sirius’s voice.

“Is that it?” he demanded to know. “You are considering your options. The only thing you should be doing is ensuring us that the previous laws in place to protect the people of Britain are to be immediately reinstated. We need to know that the Aurors will be allowed to use necessary force against the Dark Lord and his followers. More than that, we need to know that those captured are suitably punished. Azkaban is no longer suitable, not since the Dementors joined him, again!”

The other Lords and Ladies voiced their agreement, and Fudge shook his head.

“It is not so simple…”

“Oh, yes it is!” Augusta Longbottom interjected heatedly. “My son and his wife remain in St Mungo’s to this day after what was done to them. So, Minister, how many more people are you willing to allow to be slaughtered before you learn from the same mistakes as your predecessor? Bagnold was just as weak as you and look what happened. Were it not for Harry Potter, we probably would not be sitting here now, and yet again, who was it that greeted Voldemort last night? It wasn’t the Aurors, and it certainly wasn’t you. No, it was Harry Potter, a boy of sixteen, who has done more to combat the Dark Lord than the entire bloody Ministry of Magic!”

Somehow, Fudge had become even paler under the scrutiny of those gathered, but once more, he shook his head.

“I have said all I am willing to on the matter, but I will call another meeting shortly when I have had time to discuss what our course of action will be.”

It was a cacophony of booing that followed the man and his entourage from the room as he scuttled away, and Sirius’s nostrils flared.

The man would do nothing, and his inaction would cost lives.

“We cannot allow this, Black,” Augusta murmured as she approached. “It cannot be the same as it was last time.”

“No, it cannot,” Sirius agreed, pondering just what could be done to prevent such incompetence.

Fudge needed to go.

That was the only thing for it.

He was too close to the likes of Malfoy, easily coerced into doing the man’s bidding, and already had proven himself weak and indecisive, an observation that caused Sirius to shake his head.

Cornelius Fudge needed to go.

(Break)

“What’re you going to tell your parents?” Wendell asked the three girls curiously.

“Nothing,” Olivia snorted. “They’ll be too drunk to realise I was missing and probably napping anyway.”

“Mine will be at church,” Marisa said with a shrug. “We’ve only been gone a few hours.”

“I’ll tell mine I fell asleep after lunch,” Maggie added with a frown. “There’s no way I’m telling them what happened.”

“No, me either,” Wendell agreed. “It wasn’t Harry’s fault, and Ma and Pa, well, they wouldn’t like it much.”

“We got lucky though,” Olivia pointed out, “but…”

“Harry made sure nothing happened to us.”

She nodded thoughtfully.

“He’s going to feel terrible about this, isn’t he?”

The others nodded.

It had been a close call, but no true harm had been done to any of them, something Wendell was grateful for, not just because it would take some considerable explaining, but what it would’ve done to Harry.

“No, best not mention it to anyone,” he urged.

The others nodded once more, and only a few moments later, they were collected by another cloaked and hooded man, who’d been tasked with ensuring they were taken home.

“What a day,” Wendell snorted amusedly.

It had indeed been quite the experience, and yet, he remembered nothing of it. He’d been writing in his journal of creatures he’d been observing on his family’s land when he’d seemingly fallen asleep, and had woken up in Britain, confused but unharmed.

Evidently, it had been much the same for the others, and as the announcement of a serious incident occurring within the Ministry of Magic in Britain was announced on the wireless, Wendell realised just how much danger they had been in.

Nonetheless, Harry had come for them, had not allowed them to be harmed, and in the process, his reputation had only grown.

Wendell could not imagine what thoughts were running through his friend’s mind, but knowing Harry as he did, even he would be struggling to process all that had happened.

He would be angry, guilty, frustrated, and yet, proud of how he’d handled all that had been thrown at him in the space of a few hours.

Still, he was his own biggest critic, and it would be the guilt that plagued him most. Of course, Wendell nor the others blamed him for any of it, but this would irrevocably change things moving forward.

How that was remained to be seen, and Wendell and the others could only sit back and watch as what was happening in Britain unfolded in front of them.

It was not an enviable position, but Harry’s was even less so.

Not that Wendell did not have faith in his friend to emerge on the other side as the victor in all of this. He would. Against the odds, Harry would see it through, but that did not stop Wendell worrying about his friend for what else was to come his way in the months, and perhaps years ahead of him.

(Break)

He said nothing as he watched Cornelius pacing back and forth in front of the fireplace in his office, wearing the carpet down further, as he had done so many times over the years.

Dolores was in the foulest of moods as she ranted and raved about the sheer audacity of Black to question the Minister, and Lucius found himself at a loss of how he could begin to salvage the man’s career.

Truthfully, he didn’t believe he could.

Fudge’s administration was little more than a sinking ship, and though it would be much simpler to keep him in power, his grasp on his position was tenuous at best.

No, Cornelius’s days were numbered, even if he was too damned stubborn to admit it.

What Lucius needed to do was consider his own options, and given how the previous evening had transpired, he knew he needed to come up with something good to prevent himself provoking the Dark Lord’s ire.

He shuddered at the thought of being exposed to the Cruciatus Curse once more.

“He wants my job!” Fudge seethed. “Black wants my job!”

He didn’t.

The last thing Sirius Black would want was to be tied down by the current laws that governed the country, which would take months to change given the current political climate.

Cornelius could enact a state of emergency if he was so inclined, but he did not have the guts to do so, nor to follow through with what that would entail.

No, already, he feared for his position, and as things were, he would cling onto it for all he was worth.

That too did not serve Lucius nor the Dark Lord.

No, what they needed was chaos that could be taken advantage of.

“Over my dead body!” Umbridge hissed.

Lucius shook his head.

“Cornelius, I cannot even begin to understand your current position, but you must have some indication on what you are going to do. The masses will not rest until you have reassured them. You must solidify a stance.”

Fudge fiddled with his bowler hat nervously as he nodded, and Lucius fought the urge to grimace.

The man was of no use to anyone, not the population at large, and certainly not the Dark Lord.

He was a coward through and through and had outlived his usefulness.

“Can it be done quickly, Lucius?”

He nodded.

“It can, my lord, but it must be quickly. It is drastic, and not a desirable course of action, but it is the only way I see moving forward.”

“Then do it, and Lucius, if you fail me again, it will be your son that feels my displeasure. As a matter of fact, send Draco into me. It is about time he proved his usefulness.”

Lucius felt his heart sink into his stomach, but he nodded before leaving the room.

He had no intention of failing again, not that he had the previous evening.

They had secured the prophecy, after all, but evidently, it had not been what the Dark Lord wished to hear.

Still, that did not stop the man from taking out his fury on those that had been at the Ministry of Magic, and given the magic Potter had confronted them with, it was nothing short of a miracle that they had all lived through it with only minor injuries.

Potter.

The Dark Lord had severely underestimated the boy, but that wouldn’t happen again.

No, Harry Potter had been fortunate during their first encounter, and the second, but that would not continue to be.

The boy would die at the hands of the Dark Lord.

It was only a matter of time before that eventuality came to be, but for now, Lucius had something a little closer to home to focus on.

What did the Dark Lord want with his son?

(Break)

His expression was grave as he read the morning edition of The New York Ghost. It certainly wasn’t what he’d expected to wake to, and Agilbert did not know whether to laugh or cry as he read what few details had been made available to the public.

On the front page was a picture of a man with waxy features, his eyes an ominous red, his features twisted into a look of unbridled rage, and the one next to it, a boy that had become familiar to him these past years.

Harry Potter.

His clothing was badly singed, but he looked no worse for wear for whatever had occurred between them, and Agilbert Fontaine could only marvel at his student once more.

To survive an encounter with such a man as a babe was one thing, an anomaly, undoubtedly, but to fight him off and do so competently was something else entirely.

“What is it, Agilbert?” Tara asked tiredly as she entered the office, still wearing her pyjamas.

He said nothing as he slid the newspaper towards her, and the woman’s eyes almost bulged from their sockets.

“Shitting hell!”

Agilbert nodded his agreement of her assessment of the situation.

“Is he well?”

“It seems so,” Agilbert sighed. “Of course, the details are quite sparse, but Mr Potter walked away from it.”

Tara could only shake her head.

“So, he’s not really dead then,” she murmured.

“No, he is not, and I have no doubt that Harry went looking for him last night. The boy is not foolish enough to be caught in a trap. He’s much too astute for that.”

“I had my reasons.”

Agilbert all but jumped out of skin at the sound of the voice to his left.

“I’m not even going to ask how you got in here,” he grumbled. “What happened last night?”

The boy frowned irritably, and Agilbert suspected he was only frustrated with himself.

“He found a way to lure me there in the hope I would retrieve something for him. It didn’t really go to plan for him and his followers.”

“I suppose that is all you will tell us.”

“It is all I can tell you without putting your lives in danger,” Harry offered apologetically. “Which is why I am here. I think it is too dangerous for me to continue being at Ilvermorny. My presence puts the student’s lives in danger, and instead of you having to ask me to leave, I will do so of my own accord. I will make sure it is known publicly that I am no longer here. It will keep Voldemort away.”

Agilbert shook his head, and Harry held a hand up to silence any protest.

“You have accommodated me much more than any other would, and I really do appreciate it. I’ve spent the best years of my life here, and I cannot risk anything happening to anyone else. He will find a way of getting to me here, and now, I’m needed elsewhere. He already managed to get a spy within these walls…”

“What did happen to Mr Pettigrew?” Agilbert asked.

“He’s dead.”

“By your hand?”

“Maybe, and it was no less than he deserved for what he did to my family. Don’t worry, he was not brought to any harm in the school, or even in this country.”

Agilbert nodded his understanding.

So long as that was the truth, he was not obligated to report it, and he was not inclined to do so.

Pettigrew did deserve everything he’d gotten.

“You’re going home,” Tara spoke sadly.

Harry nodded.

“It is where I am needed, but I would still like to complete my NEWTs. I would return to do them at the end of the year…”

“That won’t be necessary. Given the circumstances, I can arrange for you to sit them the first week after the holidays, if you feel ready,” Agilbert offered.

“That would be most appreciated. Thank you.”

“You’re most welcome, Mr Potter, and if there is anything I can do for you…”

“You’ve already done more than enough. Thank you, Headmaster, for everything, and you, Professor Clarke. I wouldn’t have achieved all I have if it wasn’t for both of you.”

He placed his Quodpot Captaincy and Prefect badges on the desk, eyeing both fondly for a moment before taking his leave of the room.

“It won’t be the same without him here,” Tara murmured as she picked the badges up.

“You’ll have less detentions to give out.”

She smiled sadly as stood and followed in Harry’s footsteps.

Tara had grown fond of the boy, as had Agilbert since meeting him some six years prior, and though he did not know what the future held for Harry Potter, he could only wish him the very best.

Maybe one day, when all was said and done, the boy might return to the school as a man and maybe share some of all that talent he possessed with the next generations of students.

Agilbert hoped so.

Men like Harry were few and far between, and there was so much he could give to the wizarding world, if only he was to be granted that opportunity.

(Break)

She’d begun her subscription to The Daily Prophet when she’d picked up her first copy in Diagon Alley before starting school. For the most part, Hermione took little interest in the news, but the wizarding periodical was fascinating to say the least; only this morning, it was less so and erred more on the side of terrifying.

She read the front six pages from cover to cover, taking in every detail of what had transpired at the Ministry of Magic and Godric’s Hollow, trying to piece together all that was missing which had led to Harry facing off with You-Know-Who.

The details were not so forthcoming, and as ever when it came to Harry, it was impossible to understand his motivations for finding himself in such a situation.

Why was he at the Ministry of Magic in the first place in the dead of night?

She could only shake her head a she pondered it, each scenario she managed to come up with as unlikely and ridiculous than the next, but then again, Harry seemed to always find himself in such situations.

She needed only to look back at the Triwizard tournament and how he’d pulled Gabrielle out of the lake when he wasn’t even supposed to be there.

“Hermione, someone is here to see you,” her mother called.

Somehow, she knew it was Harry, and despite being only in her pyjamas, she hurried down the stairs to find the boy in the hallway by the front door.

Immediately, she wrapped her arms around him, relieved to see that he was indeed safe, and well.

“Harry, what happened?” she asked worriedly.

He shook his head and released a deep breath.

“Too much,” he murmured. “He took the others, Wendell, Olivia, Maggie, and Marisa. They’re okay, but it was a close thing.”

“Oh my god,” Hermione whispered. “So, you went after them.”

“Of course I did,” Harry snorted. “Anyway, he didn’t get what he wanted, but that is part of the reason I’m here. I want you to take this.”

He handed her a trio of three gold rings, and Hermoine frowned as she felt the magic permeating from them.

“They’re portkeys,” he explained. “You just need to turn them three times around your finger and say, ‘The Ranch’. They will take you to the basement. There’s one each for you and your parents. I’ve also thank the precaution of adding some security measures around your home, just in case you get any unwanted visitors.”

Hermione nodded her understanding.

“I’m sorry,” Harry offered sincerely. “This was the last thing I wanted to happen, but it became unavoidable. For now, you are safe and will be safer soon enough. Your house will be unplottable to witches and wizards, and so will your parent’s dental practice.”

“Thank you,” Hermione said gratefully. “I know you wouldn’t put any of us in danger intentionally.”

Harry gave her something resembling a smile before pulling her into another embrace.

“There are a few things I must be getting on with, but I’ll be around keeping an eye on things.”

“It’s going to be really bad, isn’t it?”

“Worse than you can imagine, so, keep your eyes open and watch your back. Let me know if you notice anything suspicious.”

With that, he was gone, vanishing into the night as though he was never there, and Hermione could only wonder what the future held for them all.

If Voldemort had his way, Harry would be dead, and there would be no other able or willing to stand against him. He would be the power of Britain, and life for those that did not see the world his way would be made miserable.

It was not lost on Hermione that Harry had made some big decisions. Him being around meant that he had likely already left school, that his focus now would be on one thing only, and she was terrified for her friend.

Nonetheless, she knew better than to try to talk him out of any choice he’d made.

No, it would serve no purpose.

As ever, Harry would do what he believed was right, whatever he felt was necessary, and there was not a thing anyone could say or do to stop him.

(Break)

She had been listening to the breaking news throughout the day as all that had transpired was revealed to the public, though, she suspected only half of what had truly occurred was being released.

The British Ministry of Magic certainly had egg on their faces after the Dark Lord of all people had managed to infiltrate their building, along with several of his followers.

Not that she was focused on that as much as she was the implications that directly impacted her own family.

Sabine watched as her usually calm father entered the kitchen after having taken his leave of the house earlier this morning. He took a seat at the table, his usually immaculate hair noticeably messier than usual, and his skin paler.

Her mother said nothing as she placed a plate of food in front of him, which remained untouched as he removed stacks of parchment, a quill, and some ink, and began furiously writing letters.

“You know, the ICW will not take it kindly if they learn you are supplying are terrorist group,” Sabine commented.

Immediately, her father slammed his hands on the table.

“Unknowingly supplying them!” he corrected. “How was I to know that Lucius was still in bed with the madman?”

Sabine shrugged, unperturbed by her father’s rage.

“They still won’t like it, and it means that they will eventually dig into every last one of your transactions over the years to see if you have ties to anywhere else. They’ll likely revoke any licences you have.”

“Be quiet, girl,” her father growled irritably.

Sabine said nothing else and smirked to herself.

It served him right for involving himself with a man. Whether it was indirectly or not, he’d been selling a considerable quantity of potions ingredients for more than a year to Malfoy, who had undoubtedly been supplying them to the Dark Lord.

“I don’t believe this,” her father huffed. “This could be a problem. I need to put an end to this. My lawyer will be contacting Lucius soon enough. Malfoy will not be receiving another shipment from me!”

“It’s too late for that,” Sabine sighed. “You don’t just get to walk away from it.”

Her father frowned at her, and Sabine smiled.

“No one walks away from the Dark Lord.”

Her father’s eyes widened as she drew her wand, and summoned his from his sleeve before he could reach it.

“What the hell are you doing?” he asked.

“Sabine?” her mother pressed urgently.

Her grin only widened as she shook her head.

“Do not worry, Van Droombeeld, your daughter will be well so long as you continue to cooperate. For now, she is being kept safe enough, but her safety depends on you.”

“Who are you?” Van Droombeeld demanded to know.

“Just someone that will be filling in for your daughter for the foreseeable future. I urge you not to do anything foolish. Her life is in your hands.”

Barty could feel the Polyjuice potion wearing off, and the Van Droombeelds looked horrified as they watched their daughter’s features vanish in front of them.

It had not been so difficult to break the girl’s mind when he’d taken her from Malfoy Manor several weeks prior. He’d been uncertain how the protections around the home and school would react to him, but Augustus had come through with a rather useful device of his own making.

How it worked, Barty didn’t know, but it did, and that was all that mattered.

Masquerading as a quiet, broken-hearted girl had been easy enough, and none thus far seemed to suspect him.

Even her own parents had been fooled.

“You will keep supplying the potion ingredients, and not a word to anyone. That’s a good man. Oh, and just so you know that I am serious… CRUCIO!”

The man’s wife screamed as she was subjected to the curse, and Barty revelled in the joy of such sounds being torn from another.

Van Droombeeld could do nothing except watch in a state of horror, and Barty guffawed as the woman eventually collapsed to the ground, sobbing uncontrollably, and crying out in pain.

(Break)

He wasn’t sure why it was he’d come here once more, but he didn’t feel like returning home just yet. Everything was different now, more so than Harry could’ve imagined, and it had changed in the space of only a matter of hours.

Maybe here, he knew there was no chance he could be disturbed, and as he found himself standing before the man he’d had no intention of seeing again, Grindelwald eyed him with a mixture of surprise and curiosity.

“Mr Potter. What brings you here?”

Harry shrugged as he handed the man a bag through the bars of his cell.

“I don’t know what kind of foods and books you enjoy, so, I just got you a little of everything. If there is anything you would like, you just need to say.”

Grindelwald looked in the bag with a frown, before something of a smile graced his lips.

“Why would you bring me these things?”

“Well, unless you’re going to break out of here using a banana, some cake, and chocolate bar, I don’t see the problem.”

Grindelwald laughed hoarsely before nodding.

“Thank you. Albus would sometimes bring me a book or two, but nothing else. The fare here has been enough to sustain me, and truthfully, I don’t know why I have bothered living for so long. Maybe just to spite Albus, or because I couldn’t bring myself to say goodbye to him. I suppose that choice was taken from me.”

“Well, I’m not Albus,” Harry pointed out.

“No, you are not. So, while you are here, why don’t you tell me what is on your mind. I apologise I have nothing to offer other than my ears, and perhaps a little wisdom I managed to accumulate over the years.”

Harry saw no reason not to. It wasn’t as though the former Dark Lord was able to share anything said with anyone else.

As far as the world was concerned, Gellert Grindelwald was dead.

“He’s back,” Harry said simply, “and Britain know sit. He took some of my friends hoping he’d be able to catch me in a trap, but it didn’t quite work out for him. I’d already taken what he wanted, and there was no way I was going to hand it over to him.”

“Your friends are well?”

Harry nodded.

“As well as can be expected.”

“Then it seems as though all worked out for you, this time.”

“This time,” Harry agreed. “From here, I know what I must do, I just don’t know how to go about it.”

“Yes, you do,” Grindelwald encouraged. “You find yourself embroiled in war, and you must do whatever is necessary to see it through to the other side. Albus, for all of his brilliance, was no warrior. If he was, my ascent would’ve been much shorter. He avoided me for years until he had no other choice but to face me, and even with the wand, I could not best him. If you want my advice, Harry Potter, it should be you that commands the war, that leaves his enemies guessing what you might do next. Hiding and avoiding the inevitable will never cut it, but you already know that. You are cut from a different cloth to most men. You thrive in the chaos, much like I did. Now, you will do so all the more if it is chaos of your own making. Oh, he will strike against you with everything he has. You must do the same.”

Harry nodded thoughtfully.

That was one of the mistakes the Order and Ministry had made the first time around. They had been reactive, and often inactive.

Harry knew he could not make those same mistakes.

“You’re right,” he agreed. “I have to be the one that takes the fight to him and whatever army he is bringing together.

“And I have no doubt that you will do so admirably,” Grindelwald said with a smile.

“Thank you,” Harry said sincerely. “I will try to bring some more stuff for you as soon as I can.”

“Some grapes would be most appreciated, Mr Potter,” Grindelwald called after him, “and maybe some of those damned Sherbet Lemons Albus was fond of.”

He would bring them, but for now, he had plans to make, needed to figure out how he could overcome what was seemingly insurmountable odds, and how he could finally put an end to this chapter of his life before moving onto whatever was next.