36 – The Battle of Britain

Albus stayed at Castlewood Manor for a full week enjoying the peaceful solitude of the isolated grounds. No demands were made upon him, and the stresses of the last few months slipped away, if only for a little while. The gardens were in full bloom, and the sun shone brilliant and warm. He took walks with his family, and they picnicked by the pond almost daily. He began to laugh again, a sound that hadn't been heard since before the bombing of Paris in June, and his eyes crinkled at the corners when he smiled. Elizabett and Catherine filled his heart.

His investigations had led to some interesting revelations about the family that he had married into, but nothing emerged that could be construed as conspiracy. Julius had numerous business associates overseas whose activities were linked with Gellert, however, no connection could be found that led back to his father-in-law. As a matter of fact, it was brought forward that Julius' assistance in the past, in helping curb the aggression in Europe, held him in positive favor with the Ministry. That, and it appeared that he had severed many of his ties that were highly suspect in the investigation.

Marceilla's family, unfortunately, held been another story. Elizabett's cousin, Axius, his wife, eldest son, and daughter-in-law, were openly supportive of Grindelwald. Their aggression toward Muggles was deep-seated, and although there didn't seem to be any link to Grindelwald directly, Albus was certain that there was. He had felt it at Grandmaman Lestrange's in April. That side of the family refused to make eye contact with anyone, and Albus suspected it was fear of Legilimens that caused the aversion. Marceilla herself was cleared of any association that would be suspicious; simply by the fact that she rarely went overseas to visit her family and lived quietly at the manor.

Grandmaman Lestrange, Albus discovered, held no allegiance to anyone but her family. She lived by a simple code: "All energies issued out will return three-fold", meaning that positive or negative, however, she behaved, would come back to her times three. It would be in her best interest to be kind.

It was Elizabett's adventures as a young woman that intrigued him, though. Raised and educated in near isolation until attending Hogwarts, she became quietly curious about Muggles. He smiled remembering her from school. He had begun teaching there in her graduating year, and she would often corner him in his classroom to ask questions about his knowledge of Muggles. He remembered those days. He was intrigued by her then, but she was a child, a student. He gave it no further thought.

Her curiosity had led her to venture into the Muggle world for several years, and he found it interesting that a woman with such a violent family history was so engrossed in learning about those who had caused so much harm. Through his research, he had found her old Floo and Portkey requests in the Ministry archives, travel routes filed with the European Magical Council, and Muggle documentation for lodging rentals. She had traveled extensively for years. Then, for the year prior to her return, she simply vanished from the face of the Earth. There were no records of any kind. It was as if she no longer existed. Lucky for her, he supposed. Several of the towns where she had planned to go had been stricken with horrible illnesses and tragedies. Many had died, and if he hadn't known better, he would have considered her disappearance as fact that she too had perished. Someone somewhere had to know something, but he found nothing. According to his contacts, she had simply reappeared one day, determination set in her mind that the Wizard world lacked information, and she was willing to provide it. She returned to England and began to write the proposal for the course she now taught.

Albus leaned his back against an old cedar, thinking. Occasionally, in the beginning of their relationship, before they had confessed their feelings for each other, he had silently cast Occlumens out of a natural mistrust. He smiled at the memory of what had been reflected in her mind: pure, kind thought, Castlewood Manor, the gardens, her classroom, her chambers, even the image of him when he didn't know that she was watching. He was content in that fact that he trusted her. She had never lied to him. He would have known if she had. She was one of the few that he had ever let into his heart, and that was not a place where he let many journey. He had been sorely hurt the last time it had happened. He frowned. He was young, and he and Gellert had fought; a battle that left his sister dead, and his friend selfishly fleeing to save himself. It took a very long time to overcome that hurt and betrayal, and Albus had vowed to never let anyone get close again. Horace had been a fine companion for a time, and as irritating as the man could be, love was certainly never an issue. But, Elizabett was something that he never expected. Her quiet, open friendship was refreshing. She made no demands and accepted whatever he had to offer. She took him for the way he was, simply, a man. He couldn't image life without her.

Albus closed his eyes and allowed the peaceful sound of the light breeze over the water lull him into a relaxed state. His mind drifting into blissful nothingness, he jumped as a hand gently touched his shoulder.

"I'm sorry," Elizabett smiled sweetly at her startled husband. Gathering her skirt around her legs, she sat on the grass beside him. "I thought you would have heard me coming. I can't believe I snuck up on you. What were you thinking about?" Her smile was radiant.

He gazed at her lovingly with a look of serenity on his face. "You," he breathed lightly tipping his head in her direction.

"Oh, good," she grinned impishly as her hand slid over his thigh.

He lightly placed his hand over hers to stop the motion. "Are you going to ruin my tranquil state of mind?" his lips twitched upward in a tired motion.

"It could either be construed as ruining it or taking it to the next level," she playfully wagged her brows.

"And, where is our daughter?" Albus' grin grew through his auburn beard.

"Napping," Elizabett's lips twisted roguishly as she leaned toward him.

"And, your parents?" Albus moved closer to brush his lips tenderly across hers.

"Father is in his study, and mother is in the solarium," Elizabett answered to his feather-light touch.

"Good," Albus groaned as he felt himself swell. The discomfort that he suddenly felt in his lap was becoming overwhelming.

Leaning to deepen the kiss, he pressed Elizabett back into the grassy bank, his hand fumbling at the front buttons of her robe. Succeeding in releasing the fastenings, his hand slipped beneath the material to cup a perfect handful of warm flesh. Kneading the mound until the woman beside him began to moan, he nibbled a path from her lips to her collarbone, to nuzzle a hot cleavage, and finally to run his tongue across a soft nipple. Sliding his hand under the skirt of her robe and up the warm, inside skin of her thigh, they both managed to raise each other's robes enough to have flesh meet flesh. Albus raised his bared knee over her leg and came to nestle between her thighs, feeling an almost desperate need to push forward. Elizabett sensed his urgency and moved the last piece of fabric aside, reaching her hand down to guide him in. Oh, sweet Merlin. Tender kisses accompanied the slow motion, but the kisses came to a halt, as the glide became a rock, which grew into unrelenting thrusts as temperatures rose. Elizabett's cheeks flushed a bright crimson as she felt her internal walls begin to contract, and Albus' rhythm never faltered as he groaned with unbridled longing. Stretching straight onto his arms, his back arched, and he gritted his teeth to control the cry that threatened to surface as he released into her. Elizabett buried her face into his chest as her ankles wrapped around his backside drawing him tightly in. With a final thrust, they paused, hearts racing, bodies in perfect unison, her contractions clamping seductively around him. Lowering onto her and burying his face in the crook of her neck, Albus rested for a moment not wanting to let go. Elizabett uncurled her ankles and brought her feet back to the ground cradling her husband between her knees and stroking his spine.

"You have no idea how much I needed that," he whispered hoarsely into her ear.

"Probably as much as I did," she whispered back.

~~~***~~~

Albus left the following morning on another assignment from the Ministry but promised to return in two weeks for the start of school. German bombs continued to ravage London, and the targets for their destruction began to spread to other cities: Bath, Bristol, and Westminster being a few, even Glasgow, in Scotland, had been hit. London, however, lay in rubble, for the Luffwaffe could not distinguish between citizens' homes and ancient historical landmarks. They didn't care. Annihilation was the key. Many Wizards struggled to balance their powers between protecting their own families and those of their Muggle neighbors, but it was becoming a losing battle.

Elizabett felt guilty and helpless in the safety of her childhood home and watched as more and more Muggle children were adopted into the area, their lives being torn apart by the senseless violence. But, she could't risk going to see Gellert now, not after learning that Albus had protected her family in the investigation. She couldn't jeopardize his efforts.

~~~***~~~

September began in a flurry as King's Cross continued to be used to usher youngster and families away from the dangers in London. Students fought the crowds and brought heart-wrenching stories of mothers bidding her children "good-bye", never knowing if they would ever see them again. They told of air raids sirens sounding almost nightly, and of shops and homes being destroyed. Even the Leaky Cauldron hadn't escaped damages. One boy relayed that a bomb had landed so close that the portal to Diagon Alley had been cracked, and the Wizard shopping district had shook from the impact. Luckily, no further damage had been done, but it was close, too close.

Gathering in the staffroom after the first meeting of the year, Bathilda also told of Muggle children who had been shipped to relatives in Godric's Hollow, and how sad they all seemed. "Muggle or not, no child should live through such horrors," she had exclaimed.

Professor Flaurance and Professor Kettleburn agreed, and Horace had mentioned the increase of families in his area as well, complaining that he had to enhance his Muggle Repelling Charm, because they kept wandering past his home, curiously gawking at his ramshackle property as if it were a potential residence.

Classes began as usual, and routine slowly fell into place. The discussions in the senior classes never drifted far from the war, regardless of how hard Elizabett tried to steer it in another direction. Most were sincerely concerned, and they needed to voice those concerns to feel secure. So, Elizabett relented and devoted the first ten minutes of each class to an open discussion.

"You should have seen all of us. Dad was so proud of Mum. There were twenty of us living at our house at one point. It's really good to be back at school. A few less under Mum's feet. She did a really good job. We had to double up, but Dad's family is safe, and that's what matters. They've got no home to go back to. The whole area was destroyed. Muggles can be so stupid," a seventh-year Gryffindor settled into his seat in the Muggle studies class.

"My family moved in with my Gran in York. The Germans aren't bombing there. It was real quiet," another offered.

"I went to Diagon Alley in July, and we had to take the Floo. While we were in transit, a bomb hit, and my little sister ended up in Knockturn Alley. Dad went nuts trying to find her, and Mum wouldn't let us go back before school started."

The stories were endless, and they tugged at Elizabett's heart, but it was the callous reaction of some of the Slytherins that made her angry. Tom Riddle had spent his summer back in the orphanage, which rapidly filled with children who had lost their families and had no place else to go. From what Elizabett overheard, they were new fodder for Tom's malicious behaviour, and his Housemates, who fostered the same sentiment, encouraged him. It was no wonder that his attitude became even more smug when Horace openly invited him to join his little group one evening. He would have more people to gather ideas from.

Albus was working desperately to balance his duties at school with those at the Ministry, but it was one night at the end of September when he came home in a frantic state that Elizabett's mind made a clear decision. He and some others where on their way to the Leaky Cauldron when the air raid siren sounded, but instead of seeking coverage, the Wizards gallantly positioned themselves to protect as many Muggles as they could who ran for cover. However, it was not completely successful. The blast shook their shields and many were injured. Once the shrapnel stopped flying, the Wizards ran toward the wounded, but one shell was on a timer and didn't explode until a minute later. Both Wizards and Muggles died in the blast, and Albus had been been left in shock.

Elizabett steeled her resolve. Something had to be done.

~~~***~~~

It was late, and the night was dark. Gellert uncharacteristically met Elizabett at the front door of his decrepit home, a glass of brandy in one hand, and a broad smile on his face.

"To what do I owe this pleasure," he bowed slightly to the young woman. "You came voluntarily. You must want something. Am I right?" He grinned.

"Astute as always, Gellert," Elizabett tipped her head politely as she brushed passed him and entered the house. Once in the foyer, she turned to face him and waited for him to close the door to lead them into the study.

"A drink?" he asked cordially, offering her her customary chair.

"No, thank you," she courteously declined. Wiping her hands nervously across the skirt of her rose-coloured robe, she settled into her seat. This was no time to show her apprehension. Stilling her hands by folding them neatly on her lap, she bravely began. "I've come about the situation in Britain."

Gellert grinned. "Incredible, isn't it?" He breathed in awe, his delight shone in his eyes. "Before you know it, the Muggles will have wiped themselves from existence, and my people are already poised to take over. They are placed in the highest positions, but will only move on my command," Gellert boasted as he casually leaned back. "But, you didn't come all this way to hear me gloat, what is it you want?" he questioned, ready to refuse any request.

Elizabett braced herself. She had chosen her words carefully and practiced for days. She hoped she wouldn't sound mechanical. "It's one thing to fight a battle with a worthy opponent who can fight back, but to strike when one's opponent is incapable of fighting? Women and children, the elderly, the sick, the crippled, are being killed, mostly in the dark hours of night. It's like striking someone when their back is turned. There's no honour in this kind of fight," Elizabett clearly pointed out.

"You take me for an honourable man?" Gellert openly laughed. "Merlin, woman, and here I thought you knew me! I don't care how the Muggles die, just as long as they do. Women bear the future generation. The children will grow and become adults, being as stupid and inferior as their parents. The old…well, they simply deserve to die for the fact that they are no longer useful contributors in life. They are the fathers and mothers of the generation today. The others? Worthless. No, my love, I don't see why you're so concerned."

Elizabett took a different approach. "Wizards are being affected, too. Don't forget the British Ministry of Magic is in London, and many Wizards live in the area. It's not just Muggles that are getting hurt. All life is important. We learn from each other. We need…"

"If the Wizards in a war zone are not smart enough to place Protective Charms on themselves and their homes, then they deserve what they get," Gellert snorted derisively. "As for the Muggles, they are insects, irritants in life, deserving of being swatted," Gellert furiously continued. "We have felt the strike of their inferior hand for centuries. It's their turn. Wizard domination will ensure a strong existence. We are the powerful. We deserve to rule." Gellert's pale face flushed a deep shade of pink as his anger rose.

"Yes, Wizards are stronger," Elizabett countered trying to keep the situation from exploding in her face. "But, we can't blame this generation of Muggles or even the fathers of this generation for events from centuries ago. Gellert, you once told me that this was a game of strategy, that you enjoyed watching the players create and carry out their tactical plans. What are you watching now? The Battle of Britain has no plan beyond destruction. There is no tactical diversity, no complicated strategy. It's like watching someone throw a rock on an anthill. Any half-wit can do that. Whatever happened to your chess game?"

The blond in the opposite chair paused, his eyes narrowing in thought as he watched the young woman state her case. She was right. As delighted as he was by the deaths of so many Muggles, the fun had gone from the planning of it.

"What is it you want of me?" he finally asked.

"Use your head. Get involved again. Don't just sit on the sidelines. You yourself have said how incompetant Muggles are. You were once in control, but you've left them to make all of the decisions? Yes, they're killing each other off, but you are no longer in the position of power," Elizabett goaded. Pausing to let her comments sink in, she shifted in her seat. "I can't stay any longer, but please think about what I said."

Rising to leave, Gellert followed suit. He escorted her to the door, but before he opened it, he abruptly turned to face her, catching her off guard. She could feel his attempt at Legilimens and was thankful for her proficiency at Occlumens. He only saw what she wanted him to see.

"Good night," were the only curt words he spoke as he opened the door to let her out.

Tipping her head at the dismissal, Elizabett stepped from the dingy doorway and into the night. As she descended the steps, her mind reeled at what she had done. Would he take the bait? Would he dare to get involved again? Had she goaded him enough to get him to return to his original plan? This was what the Ministry needed, concrete evidence of Grindelwald's involvement in the Muggle war. She only hoped that he would realize that no good would come from killing Wizards as well, but she had a horrible feeling that he didn't care who he hurt anymore as long as he was entertained.

Stepping onto the curb on the opposite side of the street, Elizabett headed toward the alley on the right. Her visit hadn't been long, and she hoped that her absence from Hogwarts had gone unnoticed. Turning the corner into the dark passageway, she was startled by a familiar figure.

"What in Merlin's balls are you doing here?" the furious voice hissed in a whisper.