All For You - Chapter 44

Chapter 44

‘…and in other news, the Ministry of Magic continues to urge the public to only travel when it is essential after the town of Portsmouth was attacked by a tribe of giants, which led to the death of 11 Aurors and 193 muggles. It is thought that the Dark Lord, Voldemort, orchestrated the attack. He is wanted for a string of others dating back to the arson attack on Hogsmeade. That is all from me, and now, I will return you to Michael Thomas for the regional news near you…’

Harry turned the wireless off with a tap of his wand and shook his head.

None had seen such an attack coming, and no preparations had been made to combat it. For the most part, the Aurors had been in way over their head, and were it not for the desperate action of Jameson to put it to an end, he dreaded to think just how much worse it could’ve been.

He’d made the trip to Portsmouth to see the devastation for himself, and a radius of almost half a dozen miles had been laid to waste.

Days later, the Ministry of Magic was still working to put it right, but much of the city had been destroyed.

It was nothing short of an unmitigated disaster.

The muggle government was blaming their Irish counterparts for the incident, fuelling an already unpleasant relationship between them.

It was likely that any semblance of peace between the two countries would soon evaporate, creating quite the ugly situation for both.

Only the magicals seemed to know any differently, and the Ministry certainly had no intention of correcting the narrative the muggle newspapers had adopted.

“What are you thinking, Harry?” Eleanor asked.

He could only shake his head in response.

“I don’t know,” he answered honestly. “I don’t know enough about how this all played out the first time around. Maybe Jameson does.”

Eleanor nodded and squeezed his hand.

“I suppose it would be too much for me to ask you not to involve yourself.”

“I’m already involved,” Harry pointed out. “You know I can’t walk away from this. As much as I am hopeful the prophecy will be fulfilled by Jameson, I have to accept that it might have to be me to do it.”

“Can you?”

“Eleanor, I will wipe the floor with any man who tries to take me away from you,” Harry replied darkly. “I walked away from what I did because it was the only option I had. There’s not a soul who can get you now, and I will cause untold misery to any who threaten what we have.”

Eleanor nodded and smiled amusedly.

“You know, it does remind me of when we first met. You would be on the continent, doing what you had to, and I would spend my days worrying about you.”

“Our worries will be over soon enough,” Harry assured her, “but I cannot hide from this. If Jameson is going to be successful, he will need me as much as I need him.”

“I know,” Eleanor sighed. “I always thought there wasn’t enough room in the world for two of you, but I suppose it is exactly what is needed now.”

“It is,” Harry said reassuringly. “Together, we can finally put an end to this nightmare, and I can live the rest of my life without everything weighing me down.”

“Us, Harry,” Eleanor corrected. “It has been weighing us down.”

Harry nodded and placed a kiss on her cheek.

“Us,” he agreed, “but not for much longer.”

(Break)

“I must say that scar is quite the improvement to your mug,” Harry said amusedly as he took a seat next to the bed.

Moody chuckled and began coughing from the exertion.

“Piss off, Jameson,” he growled good-naturedly.

Harry had not had much of an opportunity to visit the man since the attack on Portsmouth. St Mungo’s had been inundated with journalists, and even Hogwarts had not escaped their attention in the bid to secure an interview with him.

As ever, Harry had not been so accommodating to the media, and had avoided them at every turn, despite their best efforts.

“Ready to get back to work?”

“Aye, I’d go back today if I could,” Alastor sighed. “No such luck though. It’ll be another week or so at least, and then I won’t be allowed in the field until I’ve proven my competence with this damned thing.”

The Healers had done their utmost to save his leg, but the damage to it had been too extensive to salvage. Alastor’s choices had been to live with the gammy limb or have it removed.

He’d chosen the latter, and with the additional scars, he resembled the man Harry remembered from many years prior more so than ever.

Expecting nothing less from the Auror, Moody had proven himself quite the hero during the attack.

He’d saved four of the rookies from being slaughtered by the giants, by getting them out of harm’s way, only to fall victim to a nasty blow from a make-shift club.

It had been Kingsley who risked his own life by extracting Alastor, and he too had not escaped unscathed, though his injuries were significantly minor compared to Moody’s.

It had been close to a week since the attack, and Alastor remained in the Hospital, having only had his leg amputated a few days ago.

“How is it?” Harry asked.

“Could be worse,” Moody grunted. “Aye, it could be worse.”

He moved the sheet to show the stump.

The leg had been removed from above the knee, just enough for a prosthetic to be fitted.

“Good Morning, Auror Moody,” a Healer said cheerily as she entered his room. “Any pain today?”

“Only one in my arse,” Alastor returned with a grin, “but I don’t suppose Jameson will be staying long.”

“I see you haven’t lost your sense of humour,” the Healer replied with a shake of her head.

“The sense of humour is new,” Harry jumped in. “Best have him mentally assessed. I’ve got a feeling his brains may have been addled by the blow.”

Moody narrowed his eyes at him and the Healer consulted her clipboard.

“He’s already been assessed and has passed with flying colours,” she declared.

“Then I suggest a second opinion and for the Healer who did it to be struck off.”

“That would be me, Mr Jameson.”

Moody chuckled.

“Best to shut up, lad” he advised. “Healer Thompson here isn’t afraid to take your temperature the other way, if you know what I mean.”

Harry winced at the thought.

“Sounds to me that you’re speaking from experience.”

Moody snorted before turning his attention to the Healer.

“What’s for breakfast today?” he asked.

“For you, scrambled eggs,” Healer Thompson informed him as she waved her wand, and a plate of food appeared in front of the man. “Your stomach still isn’t up to digesting much else.”

“That’s scrambled eggs?” Harry grumbled, eyeing the undercooked fare. “Looks like a cry for help to me.”

“Well, you haven’t got to eat it, have you?” Moody muttered, reluctantly scooping up some of the eggs from the plate. “As disgusting as ever,” he declared over a mouthful.

The Healer shook her head and ignored his comment.

“You can be fitted for a new leg today,” she explained, “and tomorrow, we will start your therapy.”

“Why does she look happy about that, Jameson?” Alastor asked nervously.

“Because it means she’s closer to being rid of you, or it is going to be painful. In my experience, all Healers are sadists, and I’m sure you will find that out for yourself.”

“We are not sadists, Jameson,” Thompson huffed. “Sometimes, you just have to push yourself a little.”

“Do you hear that, Moody, you malingering git. She’s already tired of you taking up one of her beds. You can get your leg, get back on your feet, and get out so someone else more deserving can have your spot.”

Alastor laughed heartily and the Healer shot Harry a look of disapproval.

“Mr Jameson, you are upsetting my patient,” she said sharply. “It is not that I wish to be rid of him, but the longer he stays in bed, the harder his recovery will be. Now, kindly shut up whilst I finish my work, or you can leave.”

“She’s a charmer,” Moody announced. “Aye, I’ll give her that.”

Thompson glared at him, and Moody fell silent.

A wise choice from what Harry had seen of the no-nonsense woman.

“I’m not going anywhere,” he declared. “I need to see him be fitted for his new leg. What do you think of something made of solid gold?”

“I think you’re barking up the wrong tree,” Alastor muttered. “I just want something cheap and light. If it breaks, it won’t matter, and it probably will if Riddle’s lot have something to say about it.”

“Spoil sport,” Harry sighed. “What about a pegleg? You could dress up as a pirate for Halloween.”

Moody shot him a glare.

“Fine,” Harry conceded, “but for the record, I think you’d make a good pirate.”

“Piss off,” Moody grumbled.

Healer Thompson shot them both a look of exasperation as she reached the door.

“I will send someone from the prosthetics team down shortly,” she informed them. “Do not overexcite him, Mr Jameson.”

Harry saluted the woman before turning his attention back to Alastor, who seemed suddenly rather downtrodden.

“You know, I always knew there was a risk I’d be killed or irreversibly injured in the line of duty,” he mused aloud, “but I never considered what I would do when it happened.”

“Well, if you died, there’s not much else you could do,” Harry pointed out. “With this, I think you’ll be just fine. A few adjustments will be needed, but that doesn’t mean it has to be the end, does it?”

“No,” Moody replied. “It’ll take more than a missing leg for that. It just made me realise how dangerous all of this is. Riddle isn’t like other criminals. He has influence, and people are willing to follow him. This is going to get uglier before it gets better, isn’t it?”

“It will, and you’ll be right there in the thick of it, Alastor, because that’s what you do.”

Moody chuckled humourlessly as he nodded.

“Aye, that’s what I do,” he agreed. “Thanks, Jameson, for coming and for doing what you did that night. Amelia said it took a lot out of you.”

It had been a rather taxing affair, but in the moment, there had been little else Harry could do without risking further harm. With Riddle there, something like fiendfyre could’ve easily been snuffed, and yet, he needed something equally effective to throw at the giants.

He’d never attempted anything of such magnitude, but it had worked as well as he could’ve hoped.

“It did, but a day of rest, and I was right as rain in April.”

“Still quite the damned achievement,” Alastor pointed out. “Not many could do something like that. Is Bones at work?”

Harry nodded.

“Someone has to pick up the pieces,” he replied. With eleven of you gone and Merlin knows how many injured, she’s been pulling double shifts most days.”

“Aye, she’s a good lass, that one,” Moody said fondly. “You know, she thinks the world of you, lad. I’ve not said anything because, frankly, she’d tell me to mind my own business but keep looking out for her, Jameson. She’s tough, but even the toughest of us need someone.”

“I will,” Harry promised, “and maybe you should take your own advice, Alastor. When they let you out of here, you shouldn’t be on your own. I’ve got more than enough space at mine, so you can come there until you’re comfortable on that new leg of yours, and don’t argue. I’ll bloody well carry you there if I have to.”

Moody laughed as he nodded.

“Aye, I appreciate it.”

Harry gave the man a squeeze on the shoulder and grinned as another knock sounded at the door.

The man who entered was carrying a large trunk, and Moody groaned.

“Are you sure I can’t convince you to get a pegleg?” Harry asked with a smirk.

“Bugger off,” Moody muttered.

(Break)

She had spent several days poring over the various newspaper articles about what had happened in Portsmouth, and Cassiopeia couldn’t deny that she had been taken aback by Tom Riddle's carelessness and ruthlessness.

Gellert’s aim had always been to bring the muggles to heel, but not in such a reckless manner, and Cassie realised just how dangerous Riddle was.

The muggles would not tolerate such occurrences, and even more than two decades ago, they’d proven just how much of a threat they could be.

Even Gellert had not been foolish enough to engage them in such a direct manner, and yet, Riddle had done so.

What caught her attention more, however, was how the attack had ended.

Jameson.

Since she had arrived in Britain, the man’s name seemed to follow her wherever she went.

Arcturus knew of him, and even her own great-niece would be apprenticing under him in the coming days.

Admittedly, what he’d done in Portsmouth was indeed an exceptional demonstration of an ability so few possessed.

Even Gellert would be proud of such a feat.

It left the woman rather confused.

She’d come here with the intention of hunting down the Serpent, and she somehow found herself paying more attention to Harry Jameson.

Perhaps she was wary of Bellatrix being answerable to the half-blood or simply could not avoid hearing of him from so many.

Even Gellert, who was locked away from the civilised world, had made Jameson’s acquaintance, and though Cassiopeia had little time for others, she’d always been there for the man she’d chosen to follow so many years prior.

Did Gellert know something?

Oddly, he seemed to be rooting for Jameson and, by extension, the Serpent.

The thought caused a frown to crease her brow, and she couldn’t help but think she was missing something.

She would need to speak with Gellert.

Things had not gone according to plan in Britain, and the situation gripping the country was much worse than she’d anticipated.

Although none had said as much, Britain was at war with itself, and if something weren’t done soon, it would only get worse.

Despite no longer calling the country home, her family was still here.

Just because Cassiopeia didn’t see them as much as she probably should, nor was she close to the Blacks, they were still her blood, and that meant something to her, even if none would believe it.

(Break)

“How are the things?” the other Harry asked.

Harry could only shake his head.

“As you’d expect,” he sighed. “The Ministry doesn’t seem to know what to do other than advising people to stay at home, and the Auror department is in a mess. With eleven dead and several injured, it’s not easy.”

Evans nodded his understanding.

“Sounds just like the Ministry,” he replied irritably. “Anyway, you did well against the giants.”

“Not well enough.”

“Maybe, but there are a few things I can show you to help for next time.”

“I’d appreciate it,” Harry said gratefully. “Amelia did say they are looking into ways of fighting them more effectively, and after what happened, they need to.”

“They do,” Evans agreed. “I only wish I could be more help. Since Broz has been dead, the vow has been less of a burden but not enough to let me do much more, unfortunately.”

“What if I killed Grindelwald?”

“It wouldn’t make much of a difference,” Evans shrugged. “With the others still out there, it would be negligible, and he might prove useful in keeping him alive.”

“Maybe,” Harry mused aloud. “I will speak with him again to see if he’s willing to help more, but I have my doubts.”

“He always was a git,” Evans muttered. “Still, at least he wasn’t a complete nutter like Riddle.”

“No, but Riddle will die soon enough,” Harry declared. “I’ll see to it. I just need to lure him out of the shadows.”

“How do you intend on doing that?”

“By being more proactive,” Harry answered. “I’m going to rid him of his support.”

Evans nodded approvingly.

“If you can.”

“Oh, I can do that,” Harry declared. “I’ll start with my old friend Yaxley. He’s had it coming for a while, and then I have another surprise for Tom that will make him rather angry. For everything he does, I’m going to make his life a misery.”

“Like he did ours.”

“Like he did ours,” Harry confirmed. “Now, about these giants…”

(Break)

In her exhausted state, her dreams had been mostly sleepless for the past week as she flitted in and out of consciousness between working double shifts in the Department.

They were several people short of a full roster, and Amelia, along with the others, was working every hour to ensure the public didn’t go without at a time when they needed all the reassurance they could get.

She didn’t know what time she’d eventually been relieved, and she’d groggily returned to Harry’s to get what little sleep she could, only making it as far as the sofa in the living room before drifting off immediately.

Her eyes fluttered open at the feeling of being lifted, and Harry's concerned expression met hers.

“What’s happening?” Amelia asked sleepily.

He offered her a tired smile.

“I’m putting you in bed,” he explained. “I’ve already set an alarm for you.”

“Aren’t you going to wake me?”

He shook his head apologetically.

“I won’t be here,” he murmured. “I’ll probably be away for several days.”

“Why?”

“Because there are things I have to do,” he sighed. “I can’t say much more, but I’ll be able to tell you when I’m home.”

“Where are you going?”

“I don’t know yet.”

Amelia nodded and took a moment to just enjoy being in his arms.

There had been little of that in recent days, and it seemed she would be deprived even longer.

“Do you think we will ever be able to have a peaceful life?” she asked.

Harry chuckled.

“You’re an Auror, Bones,” he pointed out. “Peace isn’t in the job description.”

“True,” Amelia conceded. “You’re not tired of me being an Auror?”

Harry frowned and shook his head.

“Why would I be?”

“It’s not very ladylike.”

He snorted amusedly.

“Bones, in the various states I've seen you over the years, you chasing dark wizards is probably one of the most ladylike things about you.”

Amelia narrowed her eyes at him.

“Always with the jokes,” she huffed, a grin tugging at the corner of her lips.

What he’d said, however, was true.

They’d spent more than a week in the Forbidden Forest, neither washing nor able to maintain decent hygiene, and he’d been the first to reach her after she’d been held captive for several days.

Amelia grimaced at the memory.

She’d certainly not been at her best then either.

“How are you still attracted to me after everything?”

“If you have to ask me that, then you have no understanding of just how exceptional you are, Amelia,” Harry said sincerely. “I suppose we got all the weird, awkward things out of the way before we got to where we are. That doesn’t mean I want you leaving the door open whilst you’re on the toilet.”

Amelia tutted at him and rolled her eyes as he placed her into bed before covering her with the duvet.

“I’ll miss you,” she murmured.

He placed a gentle kiss on her lips, and a sense of contentment washed over her.

“I’ll miss you.”

“Did you manage to see Alastor?”

Harry chuckled as he nodded.

“I even helped him pick out a new leg,” he explained. “He wouldn’t go for a gold one or even a pegleg.”

“You wanted him to be a pirate, didn’t you?”

Harry pouted as he nodded.

“The miserable git wasn’t having any of it.”

Amelia shook her head amusedly.

“He’s lucky to be alive.”

“Exactly! I can’t see why he wouldn’t want to be a pirate.”

“I could always chop one of your legs off and you can live your dream.”

“No thanks,” Harry replied dryly, kissing her once more. “I’ll be back as soon as I can.”

Amelia nodded, and only a moment later, he was gone, leaving her to once more worry about him and what he would undoubtedly get himself caught up in.

(Break)

With visits from Albus, Jameson, Cassiopeia, and Yaxley all in the span of a few days, Gellert had not felt so popular in more than two decades, but as an unfamiliar pair of footsteps approached his cell, he frowned in irritation.

Was it truly too much to ask to be allowed to die in peace?

He’d been condemned to the same four walls. He could do without what was becoming frequent interruptions to his purgatory.

“You,” he snorted at the sight of the man peering at him through the bars. “I must say, I didn’t expect to see you again. How are things?”

Gellert was grinning rather smugly.

He’d had little to feel smug about recently, and he never could ignore the chance to gloat, especially when dealing with such a self-satisfied peacock such as the one standing before him now.

“I expect you know how things are, Grindelwald,” Laurent growled. “What did you tell him?”

“Tell who?” Gellert asked dumbly.

“Jameson! What did you tell him?”

Gellert shrugged.

“A little of this and a little of that,” he replied with a smirk. “Causing problems, is he?”

“He’s beginning to,” Laurent growled. “He’s getting too close for comfort, and my men failed to assassinate him.”

“Well, old friend, that sounds like your problem.”

Laurent narrowed his eyes.

“This was your idea!” he snapped. “We were to be a super-power that the wizarding world had never seen the likes of. You brought us together.”

“We all make mistakes,” Gellert returned sourly. “Where have you been, Laurent? You’ve allowed me to rot in here whilst you have tried to fill my shoes. We were supposed to create a new world order, one that would see wizards take our rightful place at the very top of humanity. Instead, from what I can gather, you have used my alliance purely for your own gain. All of you forgot what we intended to do and have become a cesspool of corruption. You have used it for your own ends, and not that of our kind. This was never supposed to be what you’ve turned it into. How many people have you had murdered? How many have you bribed, blackmailed, or intimidated to get what you all want? We were supposed to be better! We were supposed to take what was ours and serve those who look to us. That was what we agreed!”

Laurent snorted derisively.

“As ever, your vision proved to be weak,” he goaded. “We became more than what you intended for us. There is not an entity in existence that can achieve what we do. So a few people are killed, but in your own words, Grindelwald, it is for the greater good. There must be balance in the world, and we ensure that.”

Gellert shook his head.

“You’re right,” he replied. “There should be balance in the world, but you have tipped it only in your favour, and balance must be restored. He’s coming for you, Laurent, and there is nothing you can do to stop him. There’s a good reason your men have failed, and they will continue to do so. Jameson is much like the Serpent, only this one still has its fangs. It is only a matter of time before you find them in your throat, and I will die happy knowing that you and the others will be in the depths of hell with me.”

Laurent clenched his jaw.

“He will fail!” he ground out. “We have become more powerful than you can begin to imagine, Grindelwald. We control several of the most powerful countries, and more will join us when the time is right. We have not been idle these past twenty years. Our influence is immeasurable, and there is nothing that we cannot do in the world if we choose to. Not Jameson, the Serpent, or you can stop us. Remember that whilst you spend the rest of your life rotting in here, it is us who controls everything your tried to seize for yourself, and the rest of the world doesn’t even know it.”

He offered Gellert a smug grin before taking his leave, though another appeared only a moment later.

“I think it is time that you tell me what is going on, don’t you, Gellert?” Cassiopeia requested, shooting a glare in the direction Laurent had left in.

Gellert nodded.

He’d never told the woman of the alliance he’d created.

He intended to, but not until the right moment, and that had never come.

He’d been defeated by Albus before his associates had been able to defect, and ever since, they’d been operating in the shadows, gaining influence and evidently bastardising his intent.

It took several minutes for him to explain, and the more he did so, the darker Cassiopeia’s demeanour became. When he was done, her nostrils flared, and the woman was seething.

“So, that's why Jameson was here,” she murmured. “He’s trying to take them down.”

“He is,” Gellert confirmed. “The Serpent intended on doing the same, but we stopped him before Albus and I met on the battlefield. I have given Jameson most of what he needs to do it, but I believe another conversation is in order. Laurent always was smug, and he’s only gotten worse. He thinks that he is untouchable, and perhaps he is. The network they have between them is extensive and may be too much for one man to handle.”

“Maybe,” Cassiopeia agreed quietly, “but I saw what he did in Portsmouth. I watched them dig out eight of the giants he managed to kill. If he’s as smart as he is talented with a wand, he might just manage it. Besides, he will have me helping him.”

“You?” Gellert asked, surprised by her willingness.

“Me,” Cassiopeia confirmed. “You may be locked in here and unable to do something, but I can, and nothing will give me a greater sense of satisfaction than knocking the French bastard off his pedestal.”

Gellert released a deep breath.

He admired her continued, unwavering loyalty to him, but he was not convinced that she and Jameson could co-exist.

It would be even more of a challenge to do so if somehow the Serpent was involved.

“Cassie, do you think it wise to…”

She cut him off with a glare.

“I heard how he spoke to you, Gellert. He believes he has gotten the better of you, and we can’t allow that to happen. I had intended on killing Jameson if necessary to get to the Serpent, but perhaps the friend of my enemy can be a friend of mine, for now.”

“What about an enemy becoming an ally?”

“You’d have me work with him?”

“Well, you must first ask yourself what is more important. Do you want the Serpent dead, or do you want to see my wish fulfilled to put an end to Laurent and his associates?”

Cassiopeia narrowed her eyes.

“You play a dangerous game, Gellert,” she huffed irritably. “If you want me to work with him, I will, but the moment Laurent and the others are dead, he will join them.”

Gellert shook his head.

“I have said it enough times,” he sighed. “Going after him will only get you killed.”

“Not if he doesn’t expect it.”

“He always expects it,” Gellert retorted, somehow rather excited by the prospect of the trio working together despite the risk that came with it. “I suppose I have a letter to pen.”

(Break)

He read the contents of the file for the umpteenth time since he’d last met with Jameson. Doing so, he found it difficult to believe that the man he’d identified during the inspection of the wands was the very same capable of such corruption.

It sickened Ghost, but he knew he could not let the undeniable truth he’d uncovered cloud his judgment.

He’d promised himself when he’d accepted his position that there would be no repeat of what had happened to his fallen colleagues, that he would not allow any the opportunity to all but destroy the department again, even if that meant removing a spoiled apple from his own cart.

Ghost needed to be true to his word, and the only way of being so was to eliminate the corrupt man.

The traces on the wand may have been faint, but he was so familiar with the magic of the man that his involvement was undeniable. Even if the wand had not been wielded by him personally, he’d been in contact with it recently.

At the very least, he was involved in the attack on Jameson, and that alone was enough for Ghost to act decisively.

“Come in,” he called as the knock on his door sounded.

As expected, it was Jameson who entered, a man who’d been garnering more and more intrigue in recent months with his actions.

Ghost had been keeping a close eye on what was unfolding in Britain, and for better or worse, it was the Hit-Wizard before him at the very centre of the defence against Tom Riddle.

Releasing a sigh, he closed the file and placed it in the top drawer of his desk before looking at the man seated on the opposite side of the desk.

“I’ve given it a lot of thought,” he murmured. “I’ve tried to find an explanation as to why, but I’ve got nothing, Jameson. He’s one of our best, and I can only assume he wanted more than he’s been given.”

“That is usually enough to corrupt those who seek power.”

Ghost nodded his agreement.

“He is protected by the very same rules that protect you, and I can tell you little. He is a dangerous man, Jameson, one of the best I’ve seen come through here. You will need to have your wits about you, but he will not be expecting what is coming. He will arrive in Minsk in forty-eight hours from now. I’m sure you won’t have any trouble finding him.”

“Why Russia?” Harry asked.

“Because neither of us can be certain how far-reaching this organisation is,” Ghost pointed out. “There is a strong chance they have agents across the globe.”

“But not in Russia?”

Ghost shook his head.

“My predecessor was Russian, and the Russians came to fight against Grindelwald when Fedorov was murdered. If there is anywhere you might just be beyond their reach, it would be there. The Minister is a good man, and he would not be corrupted by any. I’m not saying your safety is completely assured, but this will be the place with the least risk to you. Here, take this.”

“What is it?” Jameson asked as he accepted the envelope offered to him.

“If things go wrong, this might just get you out of trouble. I don’t expect you will need it, but it’s best not to and have it in your possession than be unprepared for all eventualities. Of course, it is preferable that you do not need to use it. The Russians are neither allies nor enemies of the ICW, so let us not give them a reason for that to become the latter. Good luck, Jameson. You might just need it.”

The man merely nodded and left the office, leaving behind a thoughtful Head of the Department of Justice.

Ghost had celebrated Grindelwald's defeat and hoped that the particularly unpleasant chapter in wizarding history was finally behind them so that he could focus on rebuilding all that had been destroyed.

Evidently, another entity had been operating all along, and though he didn’t fully understand their motivation for doing so, he knew they needed to be stopped.

The wizarding world needed peace, or eventually, they would cease to exist from foolish conflict amongst themselves.

Even now, the magical population was still below what it had been before Grindelwald swept across the continent, and if peace didn’t last, it never would be again.

(Break)

Dotting the final sentence with his quill, he returned it to the holder before blowing the ink dry and sealing the missive with his official stamp. It would be the very last one of his term in office, and Michael Smith felt the weight of his responsibilities lifted from his shoulders.

It was over.

Tomorrow, a new man would take his place, and though he wished he had the ability to lead the department through what it currently faced, Michael knew the time had come for him to step down.

Maybe he should’ve done so a few years prior, but it wasn’t until he’d nearly lost his life to Riddle that the reality set in.

He was old now and certainly past the best years of his life.

Over the last few months, he’d worked closely with Minister Leach and his deputy to name a suitable replacement, and though it hadn’t been easy, there was only one man he believed ready to fill his shoes.

“Derek,” he greeted his now former subordinate fondly. “Well, I suppose that’s it. Everything is done.”

Grimm nodded and offered his hand, which Michael accepted without hesitation.

“You know, it won’t be the same around here without you, sir.”

“It’s time for a change, old friend,” Michael replied. “I’ll miss this, all of it, but it’s time to move on. I always said I would know when, and I know it’s the right thing to do.”

Derek nodded his understanding.

“What will you do with your free time?”

“I have no idea,” Michael chuckled, fighting the urge to let his emotions overwhelm him. “Maybe I’ll finally take up a hobby, but I think I have some making up to do to my wife. She’s always wanted to travel, and she’s put that on hold for my career. I’d like us to be able to do it before both of us are too old.”

“Well, you’d best send some postcards,” Derek all but demanded. “I’ll miss you around here, Mike. Let’s just hope your replacement is up to the job.”

“I’m sure he will be, ah, here he is now.”

It was as though any joy he felt in the moment was drained from the room as Barty Crouch entered the office, his brow creased, lips thin, and the moustache rested atop, twitching irritably.

“Is this my office?”

“It is now,” Michael answered.

Crouch barely acknowledged him with a grunt as he walked around the perimeter of the sizeable room and nodded to himself.

“It will do,” he declared. “You must be my Head Auror.”

“Derek Grimm,” Derek introduced himself.

Crouch didn’t accept the proffered hand but merely nodded in response.

“There will be changes,” he declared. “I want every member of the department here at eight am tomorrow morning. It’s about damned time this Riddle was dealt with, and it will be done my way. Well, what are you waiting for, Grimm? Get a memo out.”

Derek quirked and eyebrow at Michael before leaving the office to do as he’d been bid.

“He’s a good man.”

Crouch frowned at him.

“I will be the judge of my men, Smith,” he muttered. “Don’t you have a retirement to enjoy?”

It was a rather bitter way for his career to end, but Michael said nothing else as he gathered up his belongings.

Crouch was not the most amiable of men, but he would be good for the department.

He was incorruptible, tough, and resilient; everything the Aurors would need to ensure victory over the Dark Lord.

“Good luck, Grimm,” he whispered, taking a final look around the empty office before leaving. You’re going to need it.”