章節 34: Meeting Without Diplomacy
His breathing was laboured as he took in the destruction around him. The furniture within the room had been upturned, and some even broken. Shattered glass littered the floor, and amongst the debris lay a single form.
She was unmoving, not fatally wounded, but certainly having been on the worse end of the injuries both had sustained.
Harry was bleeding from a deep cut in his shoulder, and he was certain a rib or two were not in their natural position.
With a hiss and a groan, he righted them before knitting the laceration that would undoubtedly leave a scar for him to remember this confrontation by.
He snorted as he tapped the woman with his wand.
"Enervate."
Her brown eyes fluttered open, confusion filling them, and then a moment of irritation before she sat up and nodded satisfactorily.
"Well, I suppose that will teach me," she muttered, wincing as Harry helped her to her feet. "You've certainly surpassed me now, Evans."
Harry felt a mixture of pride and loss at Rosalina's declaration.
For the past few years, this woman had taken him under her wing, taught him how to duel and shared her expertise with him.
She may think that he had bettered her on his journey, but he didn't feel like it. Perhaps it was that he had come to respect her so much and enjoyed her company that he didn't want to admit that there was little else she could show him.
"Don't look at me like that," Rosalina chastised. "We both knew this day would come. Now, if you could fix my leg, I'd really appreciate it."
She wasn't angry, nor even irritated with him. She looked at him with the same pride that he knew he should be feeling, something he expected when he could defeat her without resorting to Parselmagic to do so.
It was absent.
If anything, beating her in a duel was rather bittersweet and Harry didn't care for it much.
With a nod, he complied with her wishes, and Rosalina stumbled as she put her weight on the leg.
Harry caught her to prevent her fall and she chuckled as she cupped his cheek affectionately.
"You're a good boy, Harry. I think I might need to sit down for a few minutes."
Harry helped her towards a broken chair, repairing it with a flick of his wand before sitting her in it.
Rosalina stretched out the injured leg and nodded satisfactorily.
"It will be fine," she assured him when he looked at her worriedly.
Harry gave the woman a sceptical look but said nothing.
Rosalina was as stubborn as they came, and she wouldn't admit if she was suffering more than was apparent.
"You know, I had high hopes that you would do this for a living," she sighed.
"What, help people into chairs?" Harry replied with a grin.
Rosalina tutted.
"Don't be flippant," she huffed. "You know what I meant."
Harry nodded.
"I don't suppose duelling would be as exciting as what I do."
"No, I don't think it would," Rosalina agreed, "but you must be careful. People are taking an interest in you."
"It comes with the job."
"No, it comes with how good you are at your job, and who you are being noticed by," Rosalina countered. "Regardless, I couldn't be prouder of you. You would have been a fantastic duellist, maybe one of the best, but what you are doing is even more admirable."
Her words warmed him.
"You never know, I could always turn to duelling one day, when I tire of chasing people across the world."
"Do you think you might?"
Harry nodded thoughtfully.
"It makes sense," he mused aloud, "but only if you would be a part of it. I wouldn't be where I am without you."
"Nonsense," Rosalina said dismissively. "I may have shown you a thing or two, but you would have gotten there on your own. You're dedicated to your craft, Harry, and what most don't realise is that is almost all you need. The fact that you are talented has only helped. But if you insist, I'm sure helping you wouldn't be too much of a bother for me."
Harry chuckled amusedly.
"I will hold you to that."
"Professor, what is going on?" a voice interrupted.
Harry turned to see several students from both Slytherin and Gryffindor house in the doorway, the door itself hanging off the hinges, another casualty in the battle between himself and his mentor.
"It seems as though our duel lasted longer than I thought," Rosalina sighed. "Harry, would you mind cleaning up please?"
With an elaborate sweeping motion of his wand, the furniture and the windows were restored, and even the scorch marks on the floor and walls vanished.
In only a matter of seconds, the classroom was as though a violent struggle had not taken place only moments before.
"Do come in and take your seats," Rosalina instructed.
The students filed in slowly, each of them looking concerned at the scene they had arrived to.
"There is no need to worry," Rosalina assured them. "I'm sure most of you will remember Harry Evans. He was a student here a few years ago, and he has kindly volunteered to help assist me with your lesson today."
Harry's gaze snapped towards the woman who merely grinned at him.
He had agreed to no such thing.
"Today, we will be focusing on our shield charms, and since I am quite indisposed, Mr Evans here will talk you through the basics, and even give an expert demonstration. Isn't that right, Harry?"
Harry narrowed his eyes at Rosalina, the woman evidently quite proud of herself.
"I'll bloody kill you, Nott," he muttered, only to receive an innocent smile in response.
"Not in front of the students, Harry. Now, be a good boy and help them. This is their OWL year, after all."
With a shake of his head, Harry turned his attention to the confused students, one of the Gryffindors unabashedly raising his hand as he did so.
"Yes?" Harry asked.
"Aren't you the one who kicked Malfoy's arse?"
Harry huffed as Rosalina chastised the boy, taking five points from his house.
This was going to be a long hour; one he hadn't planned for.
He had only come to visit Rosalina, and then Minerva when she was finished for the day, but now he found himself teaching a Defence class and his mentor could not be smugger about it if she tried.
(Break)
The day had dragged by slowly for Minerva. She knew that Harry was in the castle, and though she would be seeing him when classes had finished, she was impatiently waiting for the final five minutes with the seventh years to pass.
She and Harry had not spent much time together since Christmas Day. With him being away as he was and Minerva helping the students with important exams, neither had much time to spare.
This evening, however, she intended to enjoy what they would be allowed before he would undoubtedly be called away again.
"That will be all for today," Albus announced.
The students hurriedly packed their things away and left the room, eager to escape the NEWT lesson they had endured.
"Albus…"
"There is no need for you to stay, Minerva," Dumbledore said with a smile. "Go and check that he's okay."
Minerva left quicker than the students had, the chuckle of the transfiguration professor echoing in her ear.
She made her way to the Entrance Hall where they'd agreed to meet. He wasn't here, and just when she began to wonder where he'd got to, she spotted Harry escorting Professor Nott down the staircase from the first floor.
The woman was leaning on him as she hobbled, the two of them laughing at her plight. Rosalina spotted her and pulled Harry into a hug before she kissed him on the cheek.
"Write, Evans," she said firmly. "At least I know that if I need someone to cover for me, I won't have to look far."
"You've got no chance," Harry snorted, "and bloody well get that leg looked at. We both know I'm not very good with healing."
"I will," Rosalina huffed. "Now, leave me alone. There is a younger lady waiting for you."
He turned towards her, a bright smile cresting his lips as he approached.
"Hello," he said.
Such a simple greeting brought her so much happiness.
Harry hadn't gone into detail about what had happened in France, but she knew he'd had a difficult time. Seeing for herself that he seemed to be no worse for wear was a relief.
"What happened to Rosalina?" Minerva asked.
Harry huffed as he shook his head.
"We duelled and she ended up worse off than me," he explained. "She'll be fine in a day or two."
Minerva hummed.
She knew very well what the duels between Harry and the defence professor were like. One of them always ended up injured, but usually it was him.
"Anyway, what would you like to do?" he asked, putting an end to the subject.
"The alley?"
Harry nodded and took her by the hand.
It was still cold in Scotland, but his hand was warm, so Minerva didn't feel the chill.
She had missed him more than was normal since he had met her parents at Christmas, and though it was only February, they really hadn't had much time together.
"Do you know what has gotten into Charlus? I bumped into him a few days ago in Godric's Hollow and he seemed really pleased about something."
Minerva had noticed it too when the Potter heir had been at Hogwarts recently. He hadn't said anything, but he was quite chipper.
"I have no idea," Minerva answered as they passed through the school gates.
"I suppose he'll tell us when he's ready."
Minerva nodded and yelped as Harry apparated them away unexpectedly.
"You stupid man," she chided, raising an eyebrow at him when he smirked "That wasn't funny."
"You're not really angry," he replied. "I know you well enough to know when you are."
Minerva narrowed her eyes at him.
"You're still a stupid man," she grumbled, shaking her head, trying to stop herself smiling.
"There it is," Harry said triumphantly when she failed. "Come on, I'm hungry. Do you know any of the restaurants here?"
Minerva shot him a final glare before leading them towards a diner where she, Poppy, and Augusta had eaten a few times during their various summer holidays.
"it's nice here," she declared, "and if I remember rightly, they serve treacle tart during the winter months."
"What more could I ever want?" Harry asked, pushing the door open and holding it for her.
"You're so easily pleased," Minerva sighed.
It was as she remembered it inside.
The diner was run by an older couple, and as it had always been during her previous visits, they were quite busy this evening.
"Now, there's a familiar face," the husband of the duo greeted her enthusiastically. "It has been some time since I saw you, young lady. I hope you are keeping well?"
Minerva nodded.
"I am," she confirmed.
"Good! And who is this gentleman?"
Minerva shot a look at Harry.
"I wouldn't go as far to say that he is a gentleman, Eugene, but this is Harry. I will make sure he is on his best behaviour."
"Ah, one to watch out for then," the old man guffawed, clapping Harry on the shoulder. "You need to be careful of this one, son. Quite the fiery witch when she wants to be."
"Oh, I know that," Harry chuckled. "She certainly keeps me on my toes."
Eugene smiled fondly at Minerva.
"Will you be joined by anyone else?"
"No, it will be just the two of us."
The man seemed to be surprised but offered Minerva a wink.
"Then follow me," he instructed. "I have a very nice table for two by the window."
"Thank you," Minerva replied, pulling Harry along in her wake.
"Here we are," Eugene announced, holding Minerva's seat out for her when they reached the table. "I will bring you some menus. Can I get you something to drink?"
"I will take a Firewhiskey. I think I may need it."
Eugene grinned as he wrote down her order on a pad he removed from the pocket of his apron.
"And for you, sir?"
"Just some water, please."
The man nodded before leaving to fetch their drinks.
Minerva watched Harry as his eyes swept across the dining room and then to the alley outside.
Ever since he had finished his hit-wizard training, he had adopted this habit. It was as though he was looking for any potential threats before he could relax.
It was odd to Minerva, but for someone like Harry who spent much of his life in hostile places, it was understandable.
Still, his career choice would never sit right with her, but she supported him, nonetheless, and that would never waver.
"It's alright," she assured him, taking his hand and giving it a comforting squeeze.
"I know, but I have to be sure. It's just how things are for me."
Minerva nodded her understanding.
"Here we are," Eugene announced as he returned and placed a menu and their drinks in front of them. "The specials are listed at the top. If there's anything you need, just give me or Gwen a shout."
"Thank you," Minerva replied
Eugene offered them a final smile and took his leave, allowing them to peruse what was food was available.
Minerva already knew what she would have, but it was quite fascinating watching Harry frown as he decided.
"Well, I won't be eating dragon's liver," he muttered.
"You're against eating dragons?"
He nodded seriously.
"As dangerous as they are, they're creatures that should be respected."
"Like when you outfly one?" Minerva snorted.
"Exactly," Harry agreed, his eyes almost sparkling in the dim light of the room. "I never did tell you about that did I?"
Minerva felt her heart sink into her stomach.
She had thought that he had made that comment so many years ago in jest. From what she had learned of his life, she should have known that it was not said in vain.
"That really happened?"
Harry snorted.
"It did."
Minerva shook her head.
"Basilisks and dragons?"
"Amongst other things. Didn't I tell you about my problem with Dementors?"
Minerva looked at him in disbelief.
"You did not," she sighed.
"No, I think I stopped at the basilisk last time."
Minerva nodded.
"After you were bitten and healed by a phoenix."
Harry chuckled amusedly.
"Well, if you think that was bad, you won't like the rest of it."
"Honestly, I don't think there's anything else you could say that would leave me shocked."
Harry looked at her challengingly.
"Have you heard of the Tri-Wizard Tournament?"
Minerva hadn't, but if Harry's suddenly grim demeanour was anything to go by, it was not as casual as he made it sound.
"I can't say that I have."
Harry hummed thoughtfully.
"We will get to that," he assured her. "First, the Dementors."
Although she had never encountered one of the Azkaban guards, Minerva had heard horror stories about them and the affect they had on people.
"How did you meet them?"
Harry deflated slightly, his expression unreadable, but it seemed to be a mixture of sadness mingled with fondness, as were most of the memories he shared with her.
"It all started with my godfather," he began with a shake of his head. "He managed to escape Az…"
He paused as he removed his wallet from his pocket and checked his hit-wizard licence.
"You have to go, don't you?" Minerva asked, unable to hide that another early departure would upset her.
Harry seemed to catch on and shook his head.
"No, it can wait until the morning," he replied, placing the wallet back into his pocket. "Now, where was I?"
Although she was taken aback, Minerva was not going to question his reason for staying.
"I may be wrong, but I think you were going to say that your godfather escaped from Azkaban."
Harry grinned proudly.
"He did, but the git caused more trouble than you'll ever know, starting with the bloody dementors."
Minerva listened as Harry described his third year of Hogwarts, how he had learned to conquer his fear, how he had almost lost his godfather, and how he had saved the man's life.
"At least there were no basilisks," she murmured when he was done.
"No, but it got a lot worse in my fourth year."
He meant it.
Minerva didn't know what could be worse than a basilisk and dementors, but she was about to find out, and though she wanted to learn everything that made Harry who he was, she wasn't sure she was ready for what she was about to hear.
(Break)
In recent weeks, Ivan had wished he had never accepted the promotion offered to him when he'd decided that he no longer wished to spend his life pursuing the criminals that the auror forces around the world could not apprehend.
He'd made enough gold to retire from his earnings, and some intelligent investing over the years. He'd taken this job because there was no one else to fill it, not any he would rest easy knowing they had it at least.
Before the tension that had seemingly gripped the world had begun, it hadn't been so difficult. He would spend his days ensuring prisoners were processed correctly, skim over applications, and conduct the occasional interview.
Now, however, he found himself carrying out investigations of those that were supposed to be amongst the most trusted in the wizarding world, only to find they had ambitions beyond their stations, beyond the agreements set in stone long before any of them had any ambitions of being representatives of the ICW.
It was messy work, and he perhaps found himself out of his depth, but if he didn't stand against such treachery, who else would?
Ivan shook his head as he mulled over what he'd learned recently.
It put him in the most precarious of positions, and his next actions could see him sent hurling into the abyss if he did not tread carefully.
"Who is it?" he called when a knock at his door sounded.
He was expecting only one visitor today, but with the seemingly impromptu inspection held by the Supreme Mugwump still fresh in his memory, Ivan was taking no chances.
"It's me."
The head of the Department of Justice breathed a sigh of relief.
He needed to add his latest findings to the paperwork he'd stored within his vault, but wished to show it to Evans first, just in case something was to happen to him or the evidence.
"Come in," he called.
Ivan could count on one hand those he trusted implicitly, and though he hadn't known Harry as long as he had the others, none seemed as willing or determined to put an end to the ugliness that was sweeping across Europe as him.
"Take a seat, Evans," Ivan instructed.
Harry did so.
The Serpent, as he was so aptly known as, had been sent for the previous evening. The matter at hand was urgent, but not so much so that the young man couldn't enjoy a final evening of rest before even more was asked of him.
Were there any others as capable as the one seated before him, it wouldn't be necessary for Harry to burdened with so many tasks, but there simply wasn't.
The Serpent's fame was growing, and not without fair reason.
Evans was one of the best, and soon enough, there would be none more revered than him that carried the hit-wizard licence.
"I asked you for two reasons, and I will begin with the most important," Ivan explained, sliding the folder he had been perusing towards the man. "What do you make of it?"
A look of deep concern overcame his subordinate as he absorbed the contents, his nostrils flaring slightly.
"Are these real?" he asked.
Ivan nodded.
"I took them myself only a few days ago. They are very real."
Harry released a laboured breath.
"So, the Japanese too?"
"It does seem that way," Ivan sighed. "There is certainly no reason that the Supreme Mugwump should be meeting with the muggle emperor. It is an odd thing to do when there is already a war brewing here. Why would he break the Statute of Secrecy himself? I did not take him to be so foolish."
He watched as Evans seemed to contemplate what he had learned, and I van waited for him to offer his thoughts.
"The only thing they have in common is that they aren't viewed favourably by other countries, but it still doesn't make sense for them to become allies," Harry mused aloud. "Not unless there is something we are missing."
"Well, they did sign that agreement in '36, but that wouldn't account for an alliance unless Russia was the enemy. So far, they are staying out of everything," Ivan explained.
Harry hummed.
"There's nothing to indicate that it would benefit either of them."
Ivan frowned, his eyes fixed on the image of the Supreme Mugwump, Sato, and the Japanese emperor shaking hands, both bowing respectfully.
"What if Sato is using the emperor as a puppet for his own gain? What if he is in league with Grindelwald?" Ivan asked worriedly.
Harry held up a hand and shook his head.
"No, that would go against everything Grindelwald is doing," he pointed out. "He may want war to happen, but he is not using the Austrian to make it happen. Grindelwald seems to be only paving the way for it, and technically not breaching the Statute of Secrecy, as far as we know. That doesn't mean he isn't working with him. His closeness to the Italian would support that."
"It would," Ivan agreed. "Then how does Grindelwald expect the Japanese to be useful? They are on the other side of the world."
"Because it would help spread the forces of the German armies thinner," Harry pointed out. "There's no way the Germans can expect to defeat all of those that will rise against them when war breaks out. Not even with the help of the Italians."
"But if the Russians joined them…"
"They won't," Harry said confidently. "The Germans and the Russians hate each other, and what they each stand for. No, the Germans seem to be banking on an alliance with the Japanese, and the Supreme Mugwump is facilitating that the same way Grindelwald is helping the Germans."
Ivan deflated in his chair.
Everything he had learned and seen indicated that Evans was right, and no matter what he did now, the damage was already done.
Sato had already ingratiated himself where he needed to, and it was a matter of mitigating the fallout.
"He cannot remain as Supreme Mugwump," Evans said before Ivan could voice the same sentiment. "You have enough evidence here to ensure he is removed. I think you should use it sooner rather than later. If you don't, he will use his influence to prevent the rest of the ICW taking action against Grindelwald until it is too late. We must be prepared for war."
Ivan nodded his agreement.
"We will need support," he sighed. "If I go in there and present my findings, I will be silenced before anything can be done about him."
"Then speak to the trustworthy representatives, and when you're ready, we will act. We cannot afford for there to be corruption, not when action should have been taken months ago. We are behind, sir, war is coming, and we are not ready for it."
It was a sobering thought, but Harry spoke truthful words that Ivan could not ignore.
His time to make his next move had come, and though he didn't feel ready for it, he had no choice.
He could not afford to delay the inevitable any longer.
"I will begin immediately," he declared. "For now, I have need of you in Greece."
"What's in Greece?"
"I do not know, but there are reports of locals in Crete, Corfu, and Kos vanishing. The aurors are having no luck in discovering what has happened and they have asked for our assistance. I have a bad feeling about this one, Evans. All you need to know is in this file," Ivan explained, sliding the paperwork he'd received towards Harry.
"This has only been happening for two weeks?"
"And more than thirty people are missing," Ivan huffed. "It is a matter of urgency."
"Then I will go immediately."
"Good," Ivan praised. "If I were you, I would head to Athens first. The auror in charge, Savas, is trustworthy. Speak to him and see if there's any other information he can give you. At the very least, he knows the islands well and can show you around."
Harry merely nodded before taking his leave of the office, and Ivan turned his attention to his own monumental task, beginning by consulting his list of all the current representatives of the International Confederation of Warlocks.
(Break)
"If there are no other pressing matters, I shall bring this meeting to an end," Armando announced, pleased that the school year was running quite smoothly.
The gathered staff members left, leaving Armando alone with Albus, or so he thought.
"Was there something else, Horace?" he asked the potions master who had stayed behind.
"I'd like to discuss something with you, headmaster," Slughorn confirmed. "It is about Tom."
Armando released a deep breath.
"What has the boy done now?"
Horace frowned.
"Nothing, I wanted to enquire about the possibility of him remaining here over the summer months. I know it is a while away yet, but he is reluctant at best to return to his current home."
Armando shook his head.
"It is out of the question."
"Why?" Horace asked. "You allowed the Evans boy to, and even Minerva."
"Both of whom were supervised. Will you be spending the summer here, Horace?"
"No, but I do not see any reason why he cannot."
"Because he is a cause of deep concern for me and many of the staff, Horace," Armando huffed. "Only yesterday, Rosalina informed me of an incident that she strongly suspects Tom was behind. Mr Carmichael was in terrible discomfort from the curse used against him."
Horace shook his head in disbelief.
"You are determined to blame the boy for everything," he replied angrily.
"As you are to defend his unsavoury behaviour," Albus interjected. "This is not the first time he has been brought to our attention, Horace, and the incidents are becoming more troublesome."
"He will not be staying here," Armando said with finality. "He should not be given free run of the castle unsupervised for several months. He has already been caught out of bounds on more than one occasion."
Horace stiffened, as he nodded regretfully.
"Very well, I will inform him of your decision."
He left before either Armando or Albus could speak further.
"He is blinded by the boy's brilliance," the transfiguration professor sighed. "Horace has fallen for his charm."
"Well, I have not," Armando declared. "Although I do not like to say such things, but the Riddle boy is rotten. I have been watching him closely, and what I have seen is very worrying. If Harry did not insist he remains where he knows Tom is, I would have him obliviated and expelled for all the good it would do."
"For what all the good it would do indeed," Albus echoed.
(Break)
"The last place that the people on Kos were seen was here," Savas announced as they arrived at the beach.
"So, they just woke up in the middle of the night, wandered to here, and disappeared?"
Savas nodded, a frown creasing his tanned brow.
"It is quite the mystery."
Harry hummed thoughtfully.
He had found Greece to be a beautiful country, and Savas had been as helpful as Federov said he would be. For the past two days, they had gone from island to island, and the auror had shown him the places the vanished people had been tracked to.
At each of the destinations, the trail simply ended, and Harry suspected that this was no coincidence.
"How many are missing now?"
"We are at forty-one as of last night."
Harry nodded.
There seemed to be little residual magic to be investigated, and no indication of what could've happened.
As much as it pained him, he would need to see for himself what happened to these people when they were taken.
"I will need a list of all the disappearances, and the dates they took place," he requested.
"Of course, I already have one here," Savas replied, handing him a piece of parchment. "Anything else?"
Harry shook his head.
"That will do for now, and with a bit of luck, I can get to the bottom of this quickly. I will keep you informed of what I find."
"Thank you," Savas replied gratefully, "and if there is anything I can do for you, you need only ask."
Harry accepted the proffered limb of the man before turning his attention back to the beach.
Something was here that didn't belong.
What that was, he didn't know, but he was determined to find out.
So many people did not simply disappear without trace, not without something being the cause of it.
(Break)
He treaded carefully through the halls of the castle, the sconces that remained lit flickering and creating eerie shadows across the walls from the suits of armour and other adornments of the school.
Tom ignored them.
He wasn't scared of being alone. If truth be told, he preferred his own company to that of his peers.
His housemates were rich, spoiled, and had never faced adversity, yet they dared look down on him as though he was not worthy of being in their presence.
They would pay soon enough. They would either learn to respect or fear him. It mattered not which.
He paused as he came to the entrance of the library, the two Hufflepuff prefects on patrol passing him without taking note of him being there.
When they were gone, he breathed a sigh of relief.
The disillusionment charm had not been easy to learn, but as with everything else he did, he remained diligent until he had mastered it.
And what a boon it was proving to be.
Checking that no other was in the area, he entered the library and to the section he had spotted the book he wished to peruse.
If he wished to, he could have simply checked it out or read it at his leisure when classes were over for the day, but then people would know he was looking at it.
He was the mudblood orphan of his house already, and he did not wish to give the other Slytherins any ammunition against him.
No, it was better this way.
Removing the large tome from the shelf, he placed it on a nearby table, and wiped away the layer of dust that had formed across the cover.
A Guide to the Families of Wizarding Britain: Who's Who in the British Isles
Here he would find his answers.
He already felt that there was something unique about him, something special that the rest of his schoolmates lacked, and it would be here he would begin seeking the answers to the many questions he had.
(Break)
It was the early hours of the morning that Harry found himself on the same beach he had visited with Savas only a few days prior. Each night, he had returned here, certain that the disappearances had not come to an end.
No one else had been reported missing, but that meant little in the scheme of things. Sometimes, it took a few days to notice that someone was no longer around.
At the very least, he was certain that Kos was not short of any more of its citizens.
Still, the feeling that something was not right would not shift, and as he sat beneath his cloak nursing a cup of coffee, he almost missed the gentleman walking towards the sea, pausing before the edge of the water.
Harry made his way towards him and watched as he drew a wand from within his sleeve.
He didn't appear to be confused or disorientated in any way and spoke with clarity when he murmured a spell under his breath.
When he did so, he was swallowed up by the sand beneath his feet.
"Bloody hell," Harry gasped, cautiously tapping the spot the man was standing on with his foot.
It held firm.
Kneeling down, he picked up a handful of it, and when it was as it appeared to be, he began to dig, clearing layers with his wand.
When he was almost five feet deep, he knew that his efforts were fruitless and that there was only one thing for it.
He would need to follow suit and hope that he was not making a foolish error.
With a sigh, he replaced the sand and took his place on the spot the man had been only moments before.
Bracing himself, he pocketed his cloak, not wanting it to be pulled loose before echoing the same word he'd heard spoken.
After only a slight delay, he felt himself being pulled from below, as though several pairs of hands were dragging him into the abyss.
Holding firmly on to his wand, he did his best to remain calm and breathed a sigh of relief when he found himself on solid ground once more, the sound of trickling water filling his ears.
"I did wonder how long it would take you to find this place," a familiar voice spoke. "I have spent many evenings here waiting, and I must say, I am impressed with your efforts."
Harry looked up to see Gellert Grindelwald perched on the edge of a large rock, a flowing waterfall behind him.
They were in an enormous cavern with no exit to be seen and Harry's instincts were screaming that he was in danger. Already, he knew that apparation would not be possible, and even his portkey was unlikely to work.
"I'm glad I haven't disappointed you," he replied, his grip tightening around his wand.
"My dear boy, you never have," Gellert said quietly, offering an almost admiring smile as he stood. "It is a shame that it has to end this way. I do despise killing unless it is necessary."
Harry snorted.
"I wouldn't concern yourself with that," he returned evenly. "I'm quite used to people trying to kill me. All have them have failed so far."
Grindelwald's smile widened, his vibrant blue eyes dancing with amusement.
"Oh, I expect for you to prove to be quite the foe. Now, I would be disappointed if you do not live up to your reputation," he added as he rolled up the sleeves of his shirt. "I have heard so many rumours of what you can do. My men believe that you are a phantom in the night, a shadow to be feared."
"Well, I have put away quite a few of them, and killed others," Harry pointed out. "I suppose it was inevitable that this would happen," he finished, gesturing between the two of them.
Grindelwald nodded.
"You are quite calm," he said appraisingly. "Most others would tremble in your position, but I sense no fear from you. Are you incapable of it?"
Harry shook his head.
"I spent most of my life being terrified, being hunted. There's nothing left for me to be fear."
"Then let me see if I can instil some within you before you meet your end."
His words were given calmly, but the blue flames that erupted around the cavern at the flick of his wand were anything but.
They gave off no heat, but they were undoubtedly deadly.
As had happened on many other occasions, Harry didn't know the spell used, but the magic was familiar to him, as though he had come across it before.
With a sweeping motion of his own wand, the flames were snuffed, and Grindelwald's eyebrows almost disappeared into his hairline.
"My dear boy, you are impressive," he acknowledged, his next effort to kill Harry coming only a second later.
Gellert whipped his wand upwards, and the floor trembled before a fissure began to open up between him and Harry.
The rocks that spewed from splitting ground were hurled towards the younger man, but Harry stood firm.
With some quick wand work of his own, he directed the debris around him, stepping away from the crack as the ground continued to part. He returned them towards Grindelwald with a his, bringing the rocks together to form an enormous serpent that struck at the Dark Lord.
The hastily crafted golem met its' end courtesy of a searing whip that cleaved it in two.
Gellert was no longer smiling, his visage grim as the two of them began to circle one another.
"You know, you remind me of someone I once knew," Grindelwald spoke almost fondly. "You wield your wand with the same practiced ease he did, but you are different. Albus could never bring himself to kill me, nor I him, I suppose."
"I'm not Dumbledore," Harry replied darkly.
"No, my dear boy, you are not," Grindelwald agreed. "Albus, for all of his brilliance, always did lack a sense of ruthlessness. You would kill me in a heartbeat."
Harry said nothing more as he lashed out, a series of spells careening from his wand towards his opponent.
Grindelwald's own defences proved to be adept, his movements fluid and purposeful as he shielded and deflected the magic.
He returned fire with his own efforts, but instead of attacking directly, he reused the scattered chunks of stone to crush Harry between them.
His efforts, however, were in vain.
Having braced himself for the impact, Harry shoved the rocks away with a repelling charm before reducing them to a fine dust, and shrouding Grindelwald in a choking cloud.
Using his wand the same way a conductor of an orchestra would, he dragged the man forward and attempted to drop him in the deep hole running through the centre of the room.
The dust spilled into the abyss, but the Dark Lord floated above, unharmed, but slightly dishevelled from the ordeal.
"You're good, but not good enough."
Throwing his wand forward the same way a fisherman would cast a line; Grindelwald displaced the pool of water being fed by the waterfall and hurled it towards Harry.
It was as though a tidal wave was being sent crashing down on him, and unsure if he could handle the sheer amount of water, Harry focused on only a section of it and wrestled it from Grindelwald's control.
Preparing himself to act at the last possible moment to not give away his intentions, he shifted as he felt the icy liquid wash over him.
Employing the method to move quickly around warded areas he had learned from Voldemort, and had seen used by the Death Eaters, he guided the thick stream towards a baffled Grindelwald, encasing himself in a layer of ice as he spotted the man attempting to divert it away from himself.
The water surrounding Harry did as the Dark Lord bid, but Grindelwald had not accounted for the work of the younger man.
As the water was swept aside, Harry's trajectory continued, and he ploughed into his foe's chest, sending them both skidding across the unforgiving cavern floor.
With the ice surrounding him having shattered on impact, neither were spared their skin being shredded by the jagged rocks.
Both sodden, bleeding, and with Grindelwald likely having broken ribs, they pushed themselves to their feet, the Dark Lord's breathing laboured, though he laughed.
"Very creative," he wheezed, "but it will take much more than that to beat me."
He did not leave any time for Harry to respond as he unleashed a salvo of spells.
As Grindelwald had against him, Harry defended himself, analysing the style and work of his opponent.
There was no rhythm to the way he cast, nor was there a pattern in the type of magic he used, but it was controlled, chaotic, but not frenzied.
For several moments, they exchanged bouts of offense, back and forth, switching when an opportunity to strike was presented, and neither would give.
To Harry, it felt very much like the first time he duelled Rosalina. He was holding his own, but for now, Grindelwald was the better combatant, in this type of fight at least.
Unwittingly, Harry had played into the hands of the man, had allowed him to dictate where the confrontation was taking place, and ultimately, the Dark Lord was in control here.
If Harry wished to be victorious, he needed to take some of that for himself, and to do so, he needed to employ the magic that Grindelwald did not know.
When the next split-second lull in the action came, he struck, a loud, sharp hiss escaping his lips, and the tip of his own wand cut into the palm of his hand.
With a twirling motion, he splatter some of it on the ground between himself and Grindelwald, and with another hiss, a large, almost transparent barrier formed.
"Blood magic is a dangerous thing to play around with," Grindelwald warned.
"But it is more dangerous to try to combat," Harry replied.
Grindelwald conceded the point with a nod.
"Usually, you would be correct, but do you not think I have not studied such things closely?"
It had been a gamble, and one that Harry began to regret as Grindelwald sprang into action once more.
Cracking his wand like a whip, a long, white tendril of magic seemed to unravel from the tip, and with little more than a flick, it shot forward.
Harry didn't know what the spell was, but he didn't remain idle. With his own gesture, his barrier collapsed in on itself and formed into an equally long serpent that intercepted the tendril, attempting to swallow it as though it was prey.
Both men looked on curiously at the struggle, but it was Gellert that snapped out of his stupor first as it seemed the snake would overcome his magic.
With another elaborate flick of his wand, he released a guttural roar.
The tendril of magic protruding from his wand flared so brightly that it almost blinded Harry, but he did not miss the unmistakable sound of splattering liquid as his blood rained to the ground, nor the triumphant cheer of victory of his opponent.
His vision cleared in time to see the tendril only mere inches from his face, and though he turned away from it, the magic struck below his right eye.
The expected, searing heat never came, the touch of it cold, and almost as delicate as a kiss on the cheek. It hurt, that he couldn't deny, but the pain was short-lived.
"NO!"
He turned to where the voice had come from, only to see the tendril of magic slamming into Grindelwald and sending him sprawling.
The Dark Lord too didn't seem to be worse for wear from his ordeal, but instead of the magic being curbed from his apparent efforts to do so, it seemed to develop a mind of its own and shot towards the ceiling of the cavern.
The entire room began to tremble as rocks began to fall from the ceiling and having evidently done what it set out to do, the streak of brilliant magic faded into nothingness.
After only a second of wondering just what had happened, Harry met the confused gaze of Grindelwald, and the two of them stared at one another for but a moment before Harry felt the familiar hooking through his navel as his portkey activated.
He had done no such thing, and yet, he found himself in his living room in Godric's Hollow only a minute later.
Harry scrambled to his feet, his wand poised, but everything was as silent as ever here.
"What the bloody hell happened?" he muttered to himself, his breathing still laboured from his exertions.
He didn't know, and he had never heard of portkeys activating themselves.
In truth, he should have felt relieved that he had been taken away from what was turning out to be a disadvantageous scenario, but that feeling was mingled with frustration.
He and Grindelwald had fought to a stalemate for the most part, and though he knew it was close, he believed he could defeat the man.
With a huff, he healed the cut across his palm and the small grazes he'd sustained from sliding across the floor of the cavern.
When that was done, he reached up to where his cheek had been struck to not find a bleeding wound, but puckered flesh.
"Great," he sighed as he walked towards the hallway where a mirror hung.
Taking in his appearance, he frowned at the mark that had been left behind.
It was not a cut, nor an obvious burn as he expected to find, but a glowing, white mark in an odd shape just below his eye.
When he inspected it closer, the image was clear, and though he did not understand what it meant, it could not be mistaken for anything else.
"The wand," he whispered, tracing the contours of the mark with the tips of his fingers.
When he did so, the glow faded, yet the mark remained. It was barely visible now, and would be missed by most, but it was still there, nonetheless.
Shaking his head, he tried to deduce what had happened, only to realise quickly he was out of his depth.
"Bollocks," he muttered to himself.
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