Sentimentality
He’d not been certain on what Riddle’s reaction would be to what he’d done in the Department of Magical Law Enforcement but given the increased presence of his name being mentioned on the wireless, and the additional posters depicting his face that sprung up across magical Britain, Harry could only deduce the man was either shaken or rattled.
Perhaps it was a mixture of both, but what he did know was that he’d left a lasting impression on his foe, which was exactly what he’d intended.
“Extremely dangerous,” he chuckled amusedly as he pulled one of the posters free from the wall of Borgin and Burke’s.
It would make for quite the souvenir to show his children one day, if he ever had them.
He shook his head of those thoughts as he shifted his attention back towards the pub just a short distance away.
Their first foray here had not been as productive as either he, Ron, or the twins would’ve liked, but that doesn’t mean they’d abandoned the plan. Knockturn Alley was still a hotbed of recruitment, and Harry did not doubt that many of the Death Eaters had strong ties here.
He would find a way to exploit it, and now that the Ministry of Magic had proven to be vulnerable, he suspected that they might just spend more time here in the hope that they were safe from him.
They weren’t and never would be.
So long as there was breath in his lungs, Harry would not stop until every last one of them was either dead or back in prison, just as he wouldn’t stop until Voldemort was cold in the ground.
For that, he knew he needed to continue his work in finding the last of the Horcruxes, and much to his consternation, he was no closer to that end than when Albus had been alive.
Of course, the two of them had discussed it at length, had even compiled a list of places to look, but thus far, Harry had come up empty-handed.
He was convinced that it would be somewhere seemingly out of reach, that Tom would’ve entrusted it to Bellatrix, but he’d seen nor heard anything of the woman for some time now.
She was still out there and would unlikely be so easily caught.
For as insane as she was, Harry would not deny that she was a brilliant, talented witch who was undoubtedly the most dangerous of Riddle’s followers.
That was something he could not forget or take for granted, but it didn’t change the task ahead of him.
Besides, if there was anyone other than Tom himself who could tell Harry any of the man’s secrets, it was the woman he trusted most. After all, he’d given one to Lucius of all people, so why not Bellatrix?
“You know, it’s rude to stare at someone when they’re sleeping.”
“Well, I didn’t want to wake you up. You look like you need to rest. How’re you feeling?”
Ron sat up and yawned.
“Tired mostly,” he sighed.
Harry nodded.
He felt terrible for what had happened, and truthfully, he did not know what to say to his friend.
“It’s not your fault, Harry,” Ron spoke once more. “It’s not like we went looking for them, did we?”
“No, I know, but this is the last thing I wanted.”
“Well, I didn’t think you wanted me dead or carrying a horrible disease,” Ron chuckled. “We all knew that what we were doing was risky. None of us knew or expected them to be there. It was supposed to be us and those gits in the dark robes.”
“That doesn’t make it any better.”
“No, but you still shouldn’t feel bad. I don’t even know if…”
He broke off with a shake of his head.
“Even if you are, you’ll always be looked after, Ron. I’ll make sure you have the potion every month, and you’ll never have to worry about anything else.”
Ron offered him a sad smile.
“I know,” he said gratefully.
Something of a comfortable silence fell between them before Ron spoke again, this time in a voice so quiet that Harry barely heard the words.
“I’m scared, Harry.”
“Me too.”
Harry suspected it was the first time Ron had admitted the fear plaguing him. For his family, and even Hermione who’d barely left his side, he would’ve put a brave face on the entire situation.
“I just don’t know what to expect,” the redhead murmured. “I know it will hurt, and… I don’t know, I’ll become a monster, won’t I?”
“Not with the potion. You’ll still be you up here,” Harry assured him, pointing to his head.
Ron nodded.
“I suppose I just need to get used to it.”
“We don’t even know if you are yet.”
“I know, but I have to be prepared for the worst, don’t I?”
Harry could not deny the logic. He would likely be much the same, but he also found that he had no words of comfort for Ron other than to assure him he would never live the same life most werewolves did.
“Did you really curse a load of people in the Department of Magical law Enforcement?”
“Yaxley and the gits in the dark robes. They’re as good as dead.”
“Good,” Ron declared as he leaned back into his pillow.
Harry could only nod in response.
He’d not yet told anyone what he gleaned from his efforts, nor that he currently had Umbridge and Runcorn in Nurmengard or that Luna was being held prisoner by Riddle.
If it wasn’t to his advantage, Harry did not doubt that he would kill the girl; a most troubling thought he could not shake himself of.
He did not doubt that the Dark Lord would do just that if the mood struck him, and it was an eventuality he would need to prepare for if he could not find a way into Malfoy Manor.
Dobby.
He would need to discuss the possibility with the excitable elf in the hope that there was something that could be done.
There was no doubt in his mind that the home would be under the very best protections, and yet, he knew that there must be a way in.
Even if he had to hunt Narcissa and Draco down himself to gain entry, he would do just that.
Still, Dobby was his first option, and Harry hoped beyond hope that the elf could come through for him just once more.
(Break)
He’d opted not to warn the others that both Umbridge and Runcorn had been taken prisoner and had certainly not revealed what had befallen Yaxley and close to forty other members of the team.
Even so, there was speculation, and some whispers he’d been made aware of were much closer to home than he’d like.
The rumours were that Potter had infiltrated the Ministry of Magic and had somehow managed to single-handedly eliminate a considerable portion of the forces the Dark Lord had come to rely on.
Of course, it had been Potter. There was no other so brazen or with the skill to carry out such an attack, and the Dark Lord smelled the fear permeating from some of his followers.
They were unnerved by what had happened, cautious, and on alert, which wasn’t such a bad thing.
Potter had proven that he could be as cunning as any others, and just as ruthless to boot.
For those unused to facing such a foe, it was a troubling realisation that this war would prove to be nothing like the last. Their enemies were no longer led by the objectionable, benevolent Albus Dumbledore. No, they were facing men and women who’d been displaced from their comfortable lives, and who were led by someone who would not hesitate to kill them.
It was uncharted territory for the Dark Lord who had never comprehended he might face such resistance, but even so, his plans remained the same as they had the night he’d learned the snippet of the prophecy.
Only now, the stakes were higher for him and his followers.
“It is quiet, my lord.”
He nodded and his gaze came to rest on Bellatrix.
“As I hope it remains for some time. We have the advantage of having a hold over the Ministry of Magic and Hogwarts. My focus is ensuring I find a way to keep Potter out of both. He has a way getting into places he shouldn’t be,” he added with a frown.
“I’m sure you can find a way, my lord.”
“Of course, but it is unsettling just knowing he is out there. Despite my best efforts, he has managed to survive the impossible, whether through luck or his own developing prowess. He is no slouch, Bella. I take Harry Potter more seriously than any other I have faced.”
“Even Dumbledore?”
The Dark Lord nodded shamelessly.
“The old fool was truly exceptional, but he always lacked the tenacity to be a true foe of mine. Perhaps some years ago, had he the inclination and desire, he could’ve killed me, but he never did. He was a firm believer in second chances, plagued by a need to see the best in everyone. Potter is not Dumbledore. He is a jaded young man, haunted by what I did to him, and it has made him ruthless, unwavering, and gifted him the ability to kill those he sees as his enemy without hesitation. Oh, he is talented with it, and the longer he lives, the more talented he will become. Perhaps in only a few years, he will be able to match even me.”
Bellatrix scoffed at the very thought and the Dark Lord shot her a pointed look.
“Only a fool would remain in denial. He has power, Bella, power like no other I have witnessed through my many years of travel and study. I will defeat him, of that, I am in no doubt, but there is no denying that he is perhaps the most dangerous man in the country other than me.”
Bellatrix seemed rather confused by the summary, but she chose not to argue with him and merely nodded in response.
“You will defeat him, my lord.”
“I will, Bella. Never doubt that.”
(Break)
She watched as the two dots continued to move in her direction, and Nymphadora readied herself to intervene. She’d been keeping a diligent eye on the map since the school year had begun, and not for the first time, she’d noticed the Longbottom boy being followed around the castle.
Whether he was aware of it or not, she didn’t know, but over the past week, he’d experienced a few close calls.
Tonight, however, she could not see how he hoped to make it to the seventh floor without being intercepted.
The Slytherin head boy, Nott, was close behind him, and waiting on the seventh floor was Pansy Parkinson, Millicent Bulstrode, and an array of other students hoping to catch Longbottom out of bounds.
Nymphadora shook her head as the boy entered her own corridor, and wiped the map with the needed phrase, placing herself by the door and her ear against it.
Opening it only a moment later, she caught a glimpse of a shimmering form passing her by, and she grabbed the disillusioned Longbottom by his shoulder and pulled him into the room.
“Be quiet!” she snapped, silencing his yelp of surprise and following protests.
She listened as another pair of feet thudded by before shifting her attention to the now visible boy.
“You need to be more careful, Longbottom,” she warned. “They have been following you around for more than a week now, and there are several of them waiting for you to arrive on the seventh floor.”
“What do you know about the seventh floor?”
“I know that you spend more time there than anywhere else in the castle,” Nymphadora retorted.
Longbottom frowned.
“You must understand how dangerous it is here. You and your little friends are being watched every moment of the day. Meeting up at the same time and place is as stupid as it is predictable.”
Longbottom eyed her curiously and Nymphadora shook her head.
“Well, someone has to do something about everything. It shouldn’t just be left to Harry, should it,” he replied, standing a little taller.
Nymphadora tutted.
“If you think that Potter is the only one doing something, then you are naïve. Of course, not being allowed to receive letters or The Daily Prophet, you won’t know much about what is going on out there, but I can assure you, Longbottom, the war is not going as well as the Dark Lord would like, and even worse than he knows. Now, you are here until the end of the school year. I understand your frustration, but you are doing the right thing by your gran and your family name. You need to bide your time, keep your head down, and just get through it in the knowledge that all is not lost. I cannot be around to help you whenever you find yourself in a spot of bother.”
Longbottom continued to frown at her.
“You’re helping Harry,” he whispered.
“I am helping every student here that needs it,” Nymphadora corrected, “and I am not alone, but that doesn’t mean you shouldn’t be careful. Now, get back to your common room, be a little bit smarter than you have been, and not a word to anyone. Understood?”
Longbottom nodded and left the office whilst Nymphadora breathed a sigh of relief.
“Bloody Gryffindors,” she murmured.
They were often too bold and pig-headed for their own good, but if Longbottom was sensible, he would heed her warning.
Not that she believed he would for the duration.
No. just like Harry, Longbottom was a little too righteous for his own good at times, and Nymphadora suspected he would find a way of landing himself in more trouble before the year was done.
(Break)
Harry could not recall a time in recent memory that he had a dream he could remember when he woke. Having been plagued with nightmares for much of his life, he’d simply always been relieved when he’d managed to get something resembling peaceful rest.
Perhaps it was his ongoing mastery of the Mind Arts that had fixed that problem, but as he found himself standing in the churchyard of Godric’s Hollow, he suspected this would not be a dreamless sleep.
He no longer shuddered from the coldness of the magic that resided here. It had indeed become his own, a comforting blanket he often and willingly sunk into.
“Why am I here?” Harry asked as the familiar figure appeared only a short distance away.
“I figured that since your mind is not so occupied, I would take advantage of it.”
“So, it isn’t a social visit.”
The figure seemed to eye him for a moment.
“Whilst Tom Riddle grows weaker here, Gellert Grindelwald and his influence continues to grow stronger in the other world. You will soon again be required to make your mark, grow your own influence so that you may shape it. That opportunity will come sooner than you think.”
Harry nodded.
“I can already feel the pull guiding me towards it,” he sighed. “I was hoping that I could be done with everything here before I was needed back there.”
“The way of Fate will forever be puzzling and inconvenient,” Death answered unhappily, “but that does not change the path you find yourself walking nor your obligations.”
“Obligations?”
“Imposed only by you and as decreed by Fate,” Death returned. “You would not abandon all you have achieved. Fate knows and relies on your sentimentality.”
Harry frowned at the observation and found no recourse to deny what had been said.
He couldn’t simply abandon what he’d started there, even if it did interfere in his efforts here. He may have been granted a reprieve from Grindelwald, but he’d never fully felt distance from what he’d left behind and knew that sooner or later he would return.
He had hoped to be finished with Riddle before doing so, but as ever, it appeared that Fate had other ideas.
It was frustrating to say the least, though not at all unexpected.
“What is waiting for me this time?”
“Oh, many opportunities, Peverell,” Death replied ominously, “and as always, they will depend on whatever decisions you make.”
The damned cloaked figure did not often show anything resembling amusement, but Harry did not miss the undertone of it in the voice speaking with him.
Still, it wasn’t entirely unexpected. For several months now, he’d been left alone, left to his devices in his pursuit of putting an end to the Dark Lord. Now, however, or at least soon, his life would once more be intruded upon whilst he was to confront the other Dark Lord plaguing his existence.
He awoke with a start to see that the sun had yet to rise, and Harry shook his head tiredly.
Having gotten his cloak back from Hermione, he’d had little difficulty making his way back inside the Ministry of Magic to witness the fallout of what he’d done there for himself.
Fear.
Although it seemed that none had abandoned their posts after the death of Yaxley and disappearances of Runcorn and Umbridge, there was a palpable sense of fear among them that they might be next.
For those who had thrown their lot in with Riddle, they indeed found themselves stuck between a rock and a hard place with no escape. If they attempted to flee from Tom, they would undoubtedly be killed, and yet, if they remained doing what they were, it was certainly not beyond the realms of possibility that they would be killed by Harry.
It was not an enviable position, but there was no sympathy to be had for them.
They had made their choices, and would need to live with them, as would Harry.
“Dobby?”
The elf appeared before him only a moment later, and he could tell from his expression that Dobby had not brought him welcome news.
“Dobby is sorry, Master Harry, but he cannot return to former master’s home. He has tried, but…”
Harry offered the elf an understanding smile.
“It was a longshot at best. I’ll just have to find another way in,” he added, a frown marring his features.
How he would do it, he did not know.
The protections around Malfoy Manor would be as extensive as any he’d come across, and there was certainly no certainty that the cloak would see him through them.
Harry was reluctant to try.
Undoubtedly, the home would be full of the most dangerous of the Dark Lord’s followers and potentially exposing himself to a most unfavourable situation.
No, he would ned to be careful and strike when the time was right, preferably when those within the stately home were occupied with something else.
Perhaps he would need help with that, and fortunately for Harry, there were many willing to do so, but what he needed more than anything else was knowledge, someone who knew the layout of the home, and there was only one man who came to mind who’d be able to provide it.
Mr Weasley would not necessarily be so eager to help him in his little venture, but when he explained just why he was doing it, maybe the man would change his mind.
Harry could not imagine him remaining tight-lipped or unwilling to help if he knew Luna’s life was in danger.
Still, he would make no assumptions until he’d spoken with him, and the others he would need the assistance of.
Once more, he would enlist the help of Dawlish and the wayward aurors in some capacity, and Fred and George’s assistance would likely be invaluable.
Before that, however, he needed a plan, one that would minimise the risk to Luna, and he could only simply hope that the pull for him to return to where else he was needed did not drag him away prematurely.
“Come Death, come,” he murmured, already figuring out what he was to do next to see his friend freed from Riddle’s grasp.
(Break)
“Arthur, I’m so sorry about what happened to Ron. How is he?” Remus asked worriedly.
Harry had reached out to him a few days after the full moon had come and gone to inform him of what had happened, and Remus was devastated for the young redhead.
“Putting a brave face on it all,” Arthur answered tiredly. “He’s terrified, Remus. We all are.”
The werewolf nodded his understanding.
He’d only been five when he was bitten by Greyback, but he remembered the hushed conversation that had taken place between his parents. They too had tried to put a brave face on what had happened, but even then, Remus knew he’d become a burden to them.
“Do you… do you think you might be able to talk to him? I think he has questions that I can’t answer, nor anyone else, for that matter.”
“Of course, but more than anything else, he needs time to come to terms with what has happened.”
“I know,” Arthur murmured, “but I think seeing you might help.”
He wasn’t sure how a reminder of what had happened to him would be of use, but as Remus watched the slowly rising and falling chest of the pale young man, he knew he would do whatever he could to help Ron.
For now, it was too soon to tell if the disease had taken hold of him, and the wait to see if that was so would be agonising.
“Remus, what are you doing here?” Ron asked sleepily, pulling him from his thoughts.
“Well, for one thing, I wanted to see that you were okay for myself.”
Ron nodded as he sat up and rubbed the sleep from his eyes.
“I’ve not been sleeping well,’ he admitted. “Every time I do, I dream about what happened.”
Remus offered him a sympathetic smile.
“I still have those dreams,” he admitted. “It’s like it becomes a part of you.”
“So, you think I’m…”
“Not necessarily,” Remus broke in. “Even if you’re bitten by a werewolf, there’s no guarantee the lycanthropy will infect you. The chances are high, but not promised, and from a scratch, there’s more of a chance you didn’t contract it.”
“But I still might be.”
“Yes, Ron,” Remus answered.
He couldn’t bring himself to give the boy any false hope. That would achieve nothing except further pain and resentment.
“But I might not be.”
“You might not, and you won’t know until the full moon.”
Ron swallowed deeply and nodded.
“What’s it like?” he asked timidly.
Remus deflated at the question.
Of course, James, Sirius, and Peter had asked him the very same thing when they’d learned of his affliction, and even with them, it had not been easy to recount.
“Painful and confusing,” he answered. “The first transformation was the worst. You get used to it, but it is the not knowing what you did that is the worst. With the potion, you won’t need to worry about that, but I remember those days, Ron. I would wake up after the full moon filled with gratitude if I was still in the cage I’d put myself in. I was always careful to secure myself as best I could. The days after are unpleasant. You will feel weak, vulnerable, and a part of the wolf stays in your mind making you irritable and less human in nature.”
Ron nodded once more.
“Well, I suppose all I can do is wait and see what happens.”
“You won’t be alone,” Remus assured him. “Harry has already made plans for us to be together the night of the full moon. We will be in separate cages and given the potion, but we will be together.”
Ron nodded appreciatively.
It was far from the good news the young man could hope to receive in the form of the confirmation that he wasn’t a werewolf, after all, but it was more than what most who’d survived an attack could hope for.
The wolfsbane was expensive and notoriously difficult to brew, so it wasn’t an option for most of his kind.
Ron, however, would never have to face losing himself to the wolf most others did, if he was indeed one of Remus’s own.
Truthfully, he hoped that wasn’t so.
Even with all the advantages in life, being a werewolf was quite the barrier that could never be overcome, so Remus was hoping and praying that Ron had managed to escape such a fate.
It was not one he would wish on any, let alone a young man who had his entire life in front of him.
(Break)
“Luna,” Hermione whispered worriedly. “Are you sure, Harry?”
He nodded gravely.
“I found the arrest report in Runcorn’s office, but there wasn’t many details, only that she’d been separated from any other prisoner. It was Umbridge and Runcorn who told me where she is.”
“I don’t suppose that gave that information up for free.”
“No, I took them both from the Ministry of Magic, and they are in m custody. Maybe if I would’ve kept Yaxley alive, he would’ve been able to tell me more, but she’s there, Hermione, and I need to find a way in.”
She released a deep breath.
“Harry, Malfoy Manor is probably the most dangerous you can be.”
“I know, but that doesn’t change what I’m going to do.”
“I didn’t think it would,” Hermione sighed. “I don’t suppose there’s anything I can say to change your mind.”
He shot her a pointed look.
“This is Luna we’re talking about.”
She nodded her understanding, and Harry looked towards the redhead.
“You’ve raided Malfoy Manor before, Mr Weasley.”
“Several times, but we had the very best Cursebreakers to get us in, Harry, and I doubt the home was even half as protected as it would be now.”
“Do you remember the layout of it at least?”
Mr Weasley nodded.
“I can draw you a map, but there are probably half a dozen places we never managed to find. It is an enormous property, Harry.”
“When I’m in, that won’t matter so much. Getting out will likely be the most difficult challenge. Things always seem to go wrong when I’m trying to get out of places rather than into them.”
“I still think it is risky, Harry.”
“Believe me, I know it is, but if there was the right distraction…”
“You have a plan.”
“I always have a plan. They just seem to not go as well as I’d like,” he snorted. “I need to discuss it with Dawlish and the others.”
“I expect Fred and George will want to help,” Mr Weasley interjected. “I’ll tell them to expect you.”
He wasn’t happy about it, but it seemed that he’d accepted that his sons would not withdraw from the ongoing war. He offered both a rather tight nod before taking his leave through the fireplace.
“Don’t you think you’re rushing into it, especially after the Hogsmeade thing?”
“I can’t leave her there, Hermione, and besides, I will have to go back soon.”
Hermione frowned before a look of realisation formed across her features.
“Now?”
“Not quite now, but the pull is getting stronger. I may have a few weeks, so, I’m not going to do anything reckless straight away, but, well, I can’t leave here knowing Luna is in danger.”
Hermione deflated.
“Well, I will do anything I can to help you, you know that.”
“I do,” Harry said appreciatively. “Thanks, Hermione.”
She hummed and shook her head.
“When will this all be over, Harry?”
“For you and the rest here, soon,” he promised. “For me, this is just the beginning.”
“And you’re sure I can’t come with you?”
“No,” Harry replied, answering the very same question she’d asked several times now. “It doesn’t work like that. It would likely kill you. It is my relationship with Death that keeps me safe. If you were a part of me, a child, or a wife, maybe it would work, but I don’t think us getting married would be a good idea.”
“You’d be a terrible husband for me,” Hermione giggled. “I’d spend my entire life wondering just how you’d get yourself into trouble next. No, you need someone who enjoys trouble and danger as much as you do, someone who can hold their own against you. You’re a stubborn sod, Harry Potter. You need someone who can keep you in line.”
“Like that will ever happen,” Harry chuckled dismissively.
(Break)
“Let us just say that certain people are displeased by your articles, Lovegood, and for the safety and security of the country, you are to cease any writing pertaining to the Dark Lord. Are we understood?”
“O-of course. I will not print another word!”
“I am glad you see it our way, but for reassurance, your daughter will be coming with us.”
“No, take me instead! You cannot take Luna!”
Her father’s protests fell on deaf ears, and the men who’d arrived at their home beat him until he was barely moving on the ground.
“You are of no value to us, you damned fool! Just make sure you heed our warning and no harm will come to her,” one of the men reiterated.
She was certain she’d been hit with a stunning spell because the next thing she’d known, she’d woken up in the very dungeon she found herself in now, though she’d not been left long.
After only a few moments of regaining consciousness, she’d been dragged from the room by a man with a metal hand and placed before another; one that could not be mistaken for anyone else.
What he’d done to her had left Luna with the very worst of headaches which had lasted for several days, and her captor had not been satisfied when he’d finally ceased his efforts to tear through her mind.
He’d been looking for anything pertaining to Harry Potter, and yet, there’d been little to find, nothing evidently of use to Voldemort.
She liked Harry. The two of them got along well enough, and she certainly considered him a friend, but she doubted even Ron and Hermione could give Voldemort much about him.
He was very much a recluse for the most part, and shared little of his personal life.
Her own memories of him consisted of the times they’d spent in the Room of Requirement, the night they’d visited the Ministry of Magic to help his godfather, and a few others of conversations they’d shared.
Of course, she’d grown up hearing his name, just as every child in the country had, but she’d not met him formally until the train ride to Hogwarts to begin her fourth year of schooling.
Voldemort had not liked that, and even less so when others had arrived who could give him less.
Still, she’d been left alone for several weeks now, well, not alone as such, but she’d not been harassed by Voldemort or any of his followers, except for when they brought in food for her and the other prisoners.
They would hurl insults around, call them traitors and mudbloods before leaving when they realised they’d get no response.
Answering back only resulted in further punishment, which the Death Eaters took considerable glee in administering.
No, it simply wasn’t worth it, and though things had gone from bad to worse for Luna in a mere morning, she could only imagine that is was much worse outside the walls.
Still, that did not prevent her from longing for her freedom or hoping that someone might just realise she was missing.
She wasn’t completely certain how long she’d been here for, but surely the new school year had begun by now. It had certainly grown cold enough to deduce that much.
She had, perhaps foolishly, believed that someone would’ve noticed she was missing, but then again, they may have simply assumed she’d opted not to return to the castle.
Who would notice her absence?
It wasn’t as though anyone paid much attention to her, but she knew she could not allow such a thought to consume her in the hope that someone might just come to rescue her from her imprisonment.
It was unlikely, that she knew, but that small shred of hope was all she had that she might just get to see her father again.
(Break)
“Do you remember the conversation we had outside the café just a few months ago?”
Gellert frowned.
Of course he remembered, but he didn’t want Duggan thinking it had been at the forefront of his mind whilst he and Albus had considering the best way to proceed.
America, it seemed, would not necessarily be the place to begin to bring their vision to life. With the tensions rising among the muggles in Europe, it was beginning to appear that may be where they’d begin.
It would be no easy task, and they were keeping a close eye on the situation, however, if they were to succeed, both had realised they would need powerful allies, and there was no power greater than the country they found themselves in now.
“Oh, I was just spit balling, Duggan,” he said dismissively. “You know how it is sometimes.”
Duggan eyed him questioningly before shaking his head.
“Ah, I thought you were serious. I thought… oh, never mind.”
“What is it?”
Duggan took a furtive glance around to ensure they weren’t being overheard before nodding towards one of the rooms used to interview prisoners. Gellert followed him, and when they were inside, Duggan activated the privacy charms.
“Listen, I thought you were serious, and well, I’ve been keeping an ear to the ground. It turns out there is someone who thinks the same way we spoke about that day, someone with influence, real influence, Graves.”
“Who?”
“Abernathy.”
It was difficult for Gellert to conceal his look of surprise.
Abernathy was indeed an incredibly powerful and influential wizard here in America.
“You’re certain of this?”
Duggan nodded.
“Very, and I may have a way to introduce the two of you in a neutral setting, but he will want to meet the man you spoke of. If he is as powerful as you say, then maybe Abernathy will be willing to work with him.”
“I can arrange for him to be there,” Gellert assured Duggan, taking hold of the unexpected opportunity with both hands.
“Then say no more for now, Graves. I will do my part if you do yours.”
Gellert merely nodded and followed Dugan from the room, pleased he finally had some good news to share with Albus, and another avenue to explore in the pursuit of the world they envisioned together becoming a reality.
Albus certainly needed the good news.
Despite his brilliance, he’d been unable to secure employment within a school, and had been taking work as an occasional tutor for overly privileged children who couldn’t care less about being taught transfiguration by perhaps the best practitioner of the art to have ever lived.
Still, it was only a temporary measure, and one that would be considerably brighter for the man he was spending his life with when he learned that all they were working for was finally gaining the traction they needed.