Disclaimer: Not mine. But you knew that already.
It's the simple truth that mortal men cannot understand why the gods shape events as they do.
- Tigana, Guy Gavriel Kay
Tom slipped into the study the guards had led Dumbledore to just as the door slid shut behind him. A wizard who appeared to be in his 30's or 40's – although Tom knew for certain he was at least 60 – wearing cobalt blue robes glanced up from a letter he was composing at a small desk in front of the window. He smiled at Dumbledore as he came to a halt in the centre of the bare room. Amusement flashed through his oddly coloured eyes, glinting grey and midnight blue as he flicked strands of shoulder-length dirty blonde locks out of his face. "Albus, what a surprise," his low voice said, obviously not surprised at all.
"I was told you'd be expecting me, Gellert," Dumbledore said tersely, glancing around the room with seeming disinterest, "I'm here. What do you want?"
"Ah," Grindelwald murmured, "But that's where you're wrong. I wasn't aware I should be expecting you until yesterday. But since you have deigned to visit…"
Dumbledore frowned, looking confused. "But if you didn't send Ms. Greenberg, who did?" he asked
"I did," Tom said as he pulled the cloak off in a single smooth pull. He smirked at Dumbledore's shocked expression and Grindelwald's exasperated one.
"I thought your cohort was supposed to delay you," Grindelwald muttered.
"Yes," Tom murmured flicking his fingers nonchalantly, "That was the plan, wasn't it? Unfortunately for him, he didn't exactly plan his betrayal thoroughly, and I just so happened to receive your correspondence to him instead."
"Mr. Riddle," Dumbledore said with raised eyebrows, "You surprise me… Why would you feel the need—"
"It was convenient," Tom said blandly, interrupting the question Dumbledore was asking him. "Discrediting you and defeating the darkest wizard of our time. A feat to be remembered, don't you think?"
The two ex-lovers exchanged glances and Grindelwald snorted. "You actually think you can defeat me, boy?" he chuckled, "You look as though you're barely out of school!"
Tom bristled at the assessment but restrained himself, knowing he needed time for everyone to get into position. "Looks are deceiving," he murmured, "I personally would never have guessed that our dear transfiguration Professor here helped you concoct a plan for world domination when you were 18."
"I don't know what you're talking about," Dumbledore snapped, "The idea is—"
"Not untrue," Grindelwald said, eyeing Tom with curiosity, "You did your homework. Who did you talk to? Aberforth? Doge?"
"Bathilda Bagshot actually," Tom replied, "We received a tip that she might know something of interest about Professor Dumbledore here. It wasn't that hard really…"
"Ah," Grindelwald murmured, "And how is dear Auntie Bathilda?"
"Quite well, I'm told," Tom replied cordially, "Wishes you would write more. The usual spiel with relatives you don't see often, or so I've been told. I wouldn't know personally as I have none."
Dumbledore watched the almost pleasant exchange of niceties between Grindelwald and Tom with growing incredulity. "You must be joking!" he hissed, his pleasant tone evaporating, "Tom stop this nonsense at once."
Tom laughed, "Oh but Professor, I am only living up to the potential you always saw in me."
Dumbledore blanched. "That's not true," he snapped, "You could be so much better than this." He affected the expression of a teacher disappointed in his students and Tom sneered unable to help himself. The look hadn't worked on him in school and it certainly wouldn't here.
"You don't believe that," Tom snarled, "You've only ever had one judgement of me and it's been the same since you told me I was a wizard. You swept into my life to dazzle me with magic and instantly judged me for my upbringing, and my ability to speak parseltongue. And then later you judged me for my sorting. I never even had a chance in your eyes!"
"That is most certainly not true!" Dumbledore sputtered. Tom took deep breath to restrain his temper. He needed to stay in control of this conversation and distract the two wizards from his presence there.
"I believe it," Grindelwald murmured. He'd watched the exchange with detached interest but now stepped in as though to defuse the building tension in the room. "You always did think people were beneath you, Albus. You never did enjoy feeling like the fool in a room either. I imagine that you felt threatened by Mr. Riddle here the moment you met him, and recognized him as one of the few who could go head to head with you. And perhaps you saw a few of my qualities reflected there as well, and considering what I have done so far in my campaign I would imagine that terrified you."
"What leads you to such conclusions, Gellert?" Dumbledore responded as he collected himself, "Your campaign as you call it had barely started when I met Tom at age 11. Besides he was scarcely old enough to be a threat."
"So you admit you see me as a threat," Tom sneered.
"Hardly," Dumbledore responded, holding his hands out in the calming gesture Tom had grown to hate over the years, "You're merely a misguided child."
"Just like you were a misguided teenaged boy when your sister passed away in a tragic accident?" Tom retorted, jumping on an opportunity as he saw it. He watched with satisfaction as both Grindelwald and Dumbledore whitened at his question. "Was it actually an accident?"
"How do you know about that?" Dumbledore hissed, his wand leaving his pocket for the first time that day and levelling itself at Tom.
Tom shrugged. "An educated guess," he responded, shoving his hands into his pockets to toy with his wand dispassionately.
"It was an accident," Grindelwald insisted.
"But neither of you are innocent in her passing, are you?" Tom guessed. He tensed as Grindelwald's wand made an appearance as well, but forced himself to outwardly remain relaxed.
"You have no idea what you're talking about, boy," Grindelwald hissed.
Tom quirked an eyebrow at him. "Struck a nerve, have I?" he murmured, inspecting his nails while his other hand continued to toy with the wand in his pocket, "So there is guilt there."
"Shut up!" Dumbledore's voice snapped through the suddenly icy tension that seemed to crackle in the air, "Neither of us know who killed her! It could have been any of us."
Tom's eyebrow crept higher. "I didn't say anyone had killed her," he pointed out politely and Dumbledore blanched as he realized his mistakes.
"You should blame your brother," Grindelwald said abruptly. He'd lowered his wand and was now looking over the letter he'd been writing, "The foolish boy. If he hadn't confronted us about our plans everything might be different now."
Tom smirked as Dumbledore's face contorted with rage. This was going wonderfully. He'd successfully distracted the two wizards from him and he stepped back to watch what was sure to be an entertaining argument. "Yes," Dumbledore hissed, "Because it couldn't possibly have been that I finally saw the darkness that I managed to overlook in my infatuation with you."
Grindelwald looked amused briefly and stood up from his desk. He stepped toward Dumbledore and lifted a hand to caress Dumbledore's face in a mockery of a lover's caress. He leaned in close to Dumbledore and then breathed, "I don't believe you. You may have strictly adhered yourself to the Light following Ariana's death, but I don't believe for a second that before that summer you were as righteous as you pretend to be now. You wanted power as much as I did – do – and you still do or you wouldn't be here now."
"You're wrong," Dumbledore whispered brokenly. His eyes had closed with Grindelwald's touch and Tom could tell that as much as he wanted to deny it, he still harboured feelings for his ex-lover despite everything between them.
"Am I?" Grindelwald murmured, "Why did you come then, Albus?"
"Some one has to stop you," Dumbledore snapped.
"So you don't want the fame and power that would result from defeating the darkest wizard of our time?" Grindelwald asked with amusement. When Dumbledore shook his head, Grindelwald laughed. "You surprise me, Albus. As a youth, you would have jumped at the opportunity to become the most powerful wizard in Britain. If you'd stayed with me, you would have."
Tom almost laughed as Dumbledore's face turned a shade of puce and the normally serene wizard lost his temper. "Shut up!" Dumbledore snarled, turning his wand on Grindelwald who merely looked amused to find himself at Dumbledore's wand point. "You know nothing of what I would or would not do! Not then, and certainly not now!"
Grindelwald cast a dismissive glance at Dumbledore's wavering wand and snorted. Dumbledore's face contorted with rage at the brush off and he turned an even darker shade of purple. "It's your fault my sister died," he hissed.
"I seem to recall you sharing my plans," Grindelwald murmured, still amused.
Tom leaned comfortably against the wall, watching the two older wizards fall into something reminiscent of a lover's quarrel. It was fascinating to see the remnants of their relationship in their interactions. He pulled out his wand unnoticed as their quarrel became more heated and began to cast the enchantment he and Dolohov had developed in the wake of Dolohov's betrayal.
HG*TR
Hermione gaped at the half dozen or so Reapers who had appeared behind her for a split second before the hours she'd spent duelling with Tom in the Glade kicked in. She shot of a curse at the leader, a burly blond-haired, blue-eyed Aryan-esque wizard and ducked as spells started flying at her. She raised a shield and shot spells at her opposition rapidly even as her mind raced trying to think of ways to subdue them quickly. Her first thought was the tried and tested detainment charm Dolohov had developed but it required a minimum of 10 seconds to cast properly and worked best if she had cover or a partner to distract anyone who might try to attack her in the meantime. Really, that was the major drawback to the spell but otherwise it had worked well enough when they'd tested it.
She dodged spells as much as possible, knowing that casting and maintaining a shield would detract from her ability to be offensive but with seven opponents she was hard pressed to dodge all their spells, so she was using a shield more often than she'd have liked. Her blood curdled as she realized most of the spells coming her way were minor hexes and jinxes. Small things that would temporarily disable her or disarm her but not injure or permanently incapacitate her. They wanted her alive for something, a thought that sent chills down her spine. She was already the centre of one Dark Lord's attention and had no desire to be the object of a second. Regardless, she took advantage of the fact, casting a number of nasty curses that only spending a lot of time with Tom had taught her.
She winced uncomfortably as a well-aimed blood freezing curse hit one of her opponents and he shouted as he went down convulsing with shivers. It was not a pleasant spell to experience and after being hit with it a couple of times while she and Tom had practiced she felt horrible about using it now but she was badly outnumbered and didn't particularly want to contemplate defeat just yet.
She was panting badly a few moments later when she managed to gain a bit of breathing space after she'd bombarda'd the ground between her and the Reapers still standing, throwing up a cloud of dust and debris that obscured and stunned her opposition. She pounced on the opportunity gratefully and began to cast the detainment spell when Abraxas shouted from the gate where he and the others had just managed to force their way through.
She turned stupidly to look at them. "What—" she managed to gasp before a solid, fast-moving object bowled into her and the world spun as she was side-along apparated away.
HG*TR
Abraxas snarled furiously as he watched Hermione face off against the Reapers. He paced the front of the gate helplessly. He needed to get in there and help her. She was an extraordinary witch but even she had limits and the odds of her coming out unharmed with 1 on 7 were not as good as he'd like. Plus, Tom would kill him if anything happened to her.
He felt Thoros grab his arm to stop his pacing. "Get your act together," Thoros hissed, "Pacing isn't going to help."
"I know that!" Abraxas snapped, turning to face Nott with a growl, "Dammit, Thoros! If she's hurt—"
"I'm perfectly aware of the consequences if she's harmed," Thoros murmured coolly, "Wringing your hands is not helping though."
"What the fuck am I supposed to do?" Abraxas snarled, "The Wards are still up and the gate closed. We're trapped out here as surely as she is trapped in there."
"Wards are fallible," Thoros murmured, "I imagine if we all hit the gate at the same time with a great enough force we could blow a hole in them."
Abraxas stilled, "Explosion spell?" Thoros nodded and Abraxas shook his head. "It could get us in. And the resulting blast could injure Hermione," he disagreed.
"What other choice do we have?" Avery piped in, "She needs help. She can't keep up against seven forever and we have other tasks we need to complete."
Abraxas turned to watch Hermione spin around throwing up shields and curses as needed. Her reaction time was getting slower and he could count at least five others still fighting her. His shoulders slumped in defeat. "Fine," he relented and they arranged themselves in front of the gate.
Thoros pointed at the scroll in the centre of the gate. "Aim for that. It will be the weakest point – both in the gate and the Wards."
Abraxas glanced at the dozen and a half or so others that had apparated to the fortress when Hermione had summoned them. They'd detained the Reapers in the ambush Grindelwald had sent using the charm Dolohov had developed for them and left their wounded and two others to guard them. They could do this. He took a deep breath. "On three," he said, "Three, two, one."
"MAXIMA BOMBARDA!" they shouted in unison, watching as the pulse of purple light emitted from their wands smashed into the gates rattling them violently.
Abraxas smiled grimly. "Again!" he shouted, "Three, two, one!" Shouts of MAXIMA BOMBARDA echoed around them and as the combined spells hit the gates this time, they exploded inward, the remains wrought iron gates curling where the force of the blast had broken them.
Abraxas rushed forward, closely followed by Thoros and the others. As he stepped through smouldering remains of the gate, he caught sight of Hermione with her back to them and breathed a sigh of relief. She was fine, and had apparently subdued her opponents sufficiently to begin casting the detainment spell. He stopped with horror as he saw the figure emerge from the clouds of dust, charging toward her.
"HERMIONE!" he yelled, knowing he was too far away to assist her and hoping that the warning would be enough.
Her concentration broken, she spun around to stare at them bewilderedly, only noticing the rogue opponent as he smashed into her smaller frame and the two spun out of existence.
HG*TR
Hermione stumbled as the weight of her unexpected assailant bowled her over and the sensation of side-along apparition faded away. She retched violently as she hauled herself to her hands and knees after her body rolled to a halt a few yards away from her assailant. Apparition was uncomfortable at the best of times – side-along apparition was worse – and being forcibly apparated by someone was nauseating to the point of being sick.
When she was finished, she scrabbled for her wand and hauled herself into a crouched stance looking around warily the dark forested clearing she'd been taken to for her captor. When she glanced toward where his body had been, she noted it was gone and frowned. Strange that he hadn't monopolized on her incapacitation from the apparition. Unless…
She turned around abruptly, coming face-to-face with the man from the Three Broomsticks and Knockturn alley three days earlier. Hermione gaped at the bedraggled young man in front of her. Her wand point wavered at him uncertainly. "There's no fucking way," she hissed as she took in his scraggly shoulder length brown hair and ripped pants. His blue eyes reflected years beyond his apparent age and they were serious as he raised his hands in a gesture of surrender.
"I assure you," he said, "I was as surprised as you when they told me." She could hear the faintest Scottish or Irish accent in his deep voice. He towered over her, a verifiable warrior of a man. Her eyes widened as she realized he had no shirt to hide his rippling abs and she averted her eyes quickly.
"They being the Morrigan," Hermione spat, "They keep in touch, do they?"
He grimaced and her wand drooped slightly as she sensed he disliked the Celtic goddess of war just as much as she did. "Unfortunately."
"Fuck," she swore, "Please tell me you're a figment of my imagination."
"I'm sorry," he said, "If it's any consolation I'm not any happier about this than you." Her eyes narrowed at him and she glanced around the clearing they were in uncertainly.
"Where are they?" she snapped.
He shrugged. "I don't know. They appeared in my dwelling about a week ago, giving me these coordinates and a time. Told me to be here."
"And you are who I think you are," she said.
He blinked at her and shrugged. "Who do you think I am?" he asked.
Hermione swore and dug into the small bag that she'd cast an undetectable extension spell on. She brandished Connla's journal at him. "The person who wrote this," she said sharply, "Connla, son of Cú Chulainn."
He blanched upon seeing the journal and reached out as though to touch it. She shoved the journal back in her bag and raised her wand at him threateningly. "Yes," he responded. His voice was a deep growl and she flinched, "I am he."
Hermione began swearing under her breath. "The others?" she asked absently, "Sparticus, and Constantine XI? Or is it just you?"
"They are similar to us yes," Connla grunted, "Still alive, as it were. But not here with me. Perhaps, if this does not go as planned."
Hermione bristled at the unspoken threat and glanced around the clearing rapidly, her mind racing with the new information. She couldn't believe it. They were still alive. Connla and Spartacus after almost two millennia, and Constantine XI after 600 years. Granted she had no proof other than this man's admittedly very authentic reaction to her probing questions, but at this point she wouldn't discount anything. "I need to find Tom," she muttered finally.
"Tom?" Connla queried, and she blushed.
"My reason for being here," she said, "Like your father was for you."
Connla swore in a dialect she recognized as Celtic. "You're working with him?" he asked.
She jerked her head in a nod. "My instructions are not specific," she bit out, "Merely, prevent the wizarding wars he triggers. And since they conveniently dropped me in Tom's lap, who promptly disarmed and bound me so I couldn't harm him, killing him was out."
"He cannot live," Connla snarled, "He has broken the rules of the universe with his magic. His life is unnatural."
Hermione rolled her eyes. "What about you?" she snapped, "It's been what? Almost two thousand years? I'd call that unnatural."
He laughed bitterly. "You don't know yet," he said, stepping closer and circling her. She swallowed and followed his movements nervously.
"I don't know what?" she snarled. He chuckled again and she snapped again. "Tell me!"
"We can't die," he said, "None of us. What the Morrigan did… when they took us out of our timelines, they removed us from time itself. We exist outside of it. We can affect the timeline but it can't affect us. So… we don't age, we don't die. We simply endure."
He laughed again at the explosion of swear words that emitted from the fiery witch. The tip of her wand sparked dangerously and she struggled to bring her heightened temper under control. "You're lying," she growled.
"Try to kill me then," he said, "Trust me a thaisce. We've tried multiple times to end our miserable existences. We can't kill each other, or be killed by the mundanes."
"I'm not a murderer," she hissed backing away from him as he advanced. She needed Tom right now to bounce theories off of.
"You can't harm me," he said, "Try, and you'll see."
"No," she snapped.
He shrugged in a silent Have it your way. "You need to kill him," he said seriously and she growled at him.
"Well my hands are tied," she snapped defensively, "Conveniently, I might add. I don't know that I'd want to kill him even if I could, whether the Morrigan wanted me to or not."
HG*TR
Tom smiled slightly as he cast the final portion of the enchantment and a shimmering blue orb trapped the two quarrelling wizards. It was very similar to the one Dolohov had developed for their use but differed in one key aspect – it also sapped magical strength from those it trapped. The two were so engrossed in their argument that they failed to notice the containment field form around them and smirked. All he had to do now was wait for Hermione, Abraxas, and Orion to show up before they could implement the last stage of their plan.
He hissed as his ring suddenly burned and he swore as he realized the signal was from Hermione's.