Harry felt his body tremble in protest as thirty six orbs of near pure magic surrounded him, orbiting around. Three rings of metal slowly orbited further out, a void in the magic as they tried to suck in everything around them. The orbs of magic occasionally flickered, though Harry refused to allow them to die out, pumping his own magic to sustain them. The room cackled with magic, radiating from his body in such amounts that a strong white aura cloaked his outline, and his eyes glowed an oppressive green.

In principle, the design of the room was very much similar to the design of the device he gave Alana, in that it required a power source to keep itself moving. Except, rather than power it with a ritual sacrifice, Harry was currently channeling his own magic to sustain the rings' movements. Theoretically, a simple, if slightly more powerful than average levitation charm could have achieved this effect, were it not for the thousands of three dimensional runes that formed the rings drastically increasing the weight of the rings, as well as absorbing the magic around extremely inefficiently through several reflux rune sequences.

Thus, it was to little surprise that after roughly three hours of sustaining himself, his magic was tethering on the brink, utilising its final reserves, meaning the slight amounts of magic that infused itself into his muscles and bones in normal times were being withdrawn and pumped out, leaving his body no stronger than an above average muggle.

Finally, as black spots began to appear in his vision, Harry allowed the flow of magic to cut off. The thirty six orbs quickly fizzled out, consumed by the rings in a final attempt to sustain its movements before all collapsed to the ground with a solid thud.

Harry himself landed gracefully on the floor in a crouch, before gently easing himself to a standing position and limping over to a bench on the edge of the room, sitting himself down and downing an entire bottle of water in three quick gulps. His entire body was aching slightly as magic quickly began refilling itself into him, first back into the bones and muscle tissue they had previously deserted, then into his body as a whole.

Such training was hardly safe, given that by all rights he should have collapsed into magical exhaustion long ago, a magical body's safety mechanism to prevent oneself being completely drained. Each time he completed the exercise, he forced his body to continue, pushing it to the very limits, and perhaps beyond.

With such risk, however, it could not be denied that there were rewards. Both his reserves of magic, as well as his replenishment rate, had grown by leaps and bounds, placing him on trajectory to become peers of the titans in a few years, at least in terms of magic available to them.

It was always a humbling reminder that he still could not stand on equal terms to the magical titans: in his final battle, Grindelwald had slaughtered hundreds, if not over a thousand veteran fighters over the course of several bloody hours, before very nearly killing another fellow magical titan in Dumbledore; at her peak, Voldemort used dark magic that tore at the very fabric of reality, often facing off against Dumbledore and his clique of veterans and coming out on top.

Magical cores didn't mature in the same way as physical bodies, in that they continued to grow larger and more potent as they were used. It could be the case that two hundred year old warlocks barely able to walk across the room without assistance would be at their magical peaks. Thus, it meant that youth were often at a disadvantage, something Harry was painfully aware of, needing to somehow make up for decades that Voldemort had on him, if not the over a century Grindelwald and Dumbledore could boast.

Feeling his magic nearly fully recharged, evidenced by his body's movements becoming fluid and springy once again, he returned to the centre of the three rings, and began casting again. Harry would not stop, not until he had mastered these six elemental bases, not until he had found the seventh element, not until he had found the base of magic and mastered that as well.

-Break-

The cameras flashed as Albert sat at the centre of a long table, flanked by various German officials, with a memorandum of understanding in front of each representative. Signing the papers, he lifted it up with a wide smile, leading to a round of cheers and applause from the crowd. Shaking hands with the chancellor, one Helmut Kohl. Accepting the microphone passed to him by an aide, he stood up, beginning. "I'm honoured to be here today to mark the beginning of a long and fruitful relationship with the people of Germany. The resilience and spirit of this country has always been a source of inspiration, and I have very much taken to heart the ideals of Rhine Capitalism in running Raven Industries and its subsidiaries."

He allowed for the polite applause expected from such pandering. It was standard protocol, and nothing unexpected. What came next, however, was likely to attract much more attention, though whether positive or negative, only time would tell. "The new series of fusion reactors will ensure that Germany remains at the cutting edge of technology, powering industry for centuries, if not millennia to come. But beyond this, I am pleased to announce that Raven Telecommunications has been awarded a special dispensation for the provision of internet and telecommunication services for the next two decades, and that the new headquarters of Raven mobile technologies will be in Zirchow."

To Albert's inward sigh of relief, there was enthusiastic applause at this. There had been great controversy in creating essentially a corporate city, despite the fact the area was largely unused. It had stirred up many parallels to the nearly unchecked reign large conglomerates had during the Nazi era, and were it not for the strong reputation of Raven Industries, they would have likely been lynched. Only a last minute under the table deal to build state of the art fusion reactors rather than the initially planned solar and wind farms had gotten the special commission of the Bundestag to sign off on this.

"All these projects will create around seven thousand permanent technical positions, along with twenty thousand temporary construction jobs, providing an economic boost of nearly eight billion marks in the first three years." Another obligatory round of applause. "I want to take this opportunity to thank the German people for welcoming us, and look forward to a long and fruitful partnership. Thank you."

-Break-

"Sit," Harry instructed simply to his circle, who quickly took their seats. "I've received some very concerning reports. Concerning reports that suggest the Preservationists are planning a revolt. Megan, Aurelius, perhaps you would like to explain yourselves?"

"It is of little concern. They are speculations at most, and our strength remains far above theirs," Megan waved her hands dismissively, before gulping at Harry's severe glare.

"Little concern? Little concern?" he hissed. "We sit here on this mantle of power because any thought of sedition is ruthlessly crushed before it can form. We sit here, not because we have won the hearts and minds of our followers, but because we have destroyed any hope our enemies have of succeeding. How many of our so-called supporters would stand and fight if it came to it?"

All of the circle sat deathly still, while Megan wilted in her seat, shuddering.

"Tell me, Aurelius, why do you think you are here? Because of your hair gel? If you paid half as much attention to your duties as you did your appearance, perhaps this insurrection would not be happening right now."

"Milord, I-"

"Go on," Harry snarled. "Let us see how you will justify this disaster."

The boy slumped in his seat, clearly looking defeated. "Make no mistake, our rule in this school remains tenuous. The board, the staff, even the students, are prowling, looking for any sign of weakness. I don't know why you thought fucking each other like rabbits rather than completing your duties was acceptable, but this isn't a bloody book club! Do your jobs, or I will replace you. Am I understood?"

"Yes milord," the two nodded solemnly.

"Then get out! And don't come back until you've sorted out your mess!" After a pause, the two quickly stood from their seats, bowing and tucking in their chairs before departing the room, closing the door quietly behind them. Harry took in a breath, turning to Otaba.

"How goes our acquisition of ingredient stocks?"

"On track, milord. Lasat seems tempted to renege on our deal, I've already requested agents from Sarah to handle that," the boy answered crisply. Harry turned to Sarah, who nodded in confirmation, drawing a smile from Harry.

"Good, very good. I'm glad at least some of our circle remains competent." He turned to Katerina. "Katerina?"

"Slightly behind schedule, milord. They're struggling to adapt through the rotation system, but I aim to have this rectified within the next month," Katerina assured, clearly nervous about his reaction. Eyeing her scrutinously, he finally gave a simple nod.

"Good, you may leave. You too, Otaba." The two bowed, before departing the room. Harry didn't miss the look exchanged, but let it go for now, turning to Sarah. "And I don't suppose you have anything to add?"

"Tournament preparations are supposed to begin ramping up next month. If you're not confident in Aurelius, perhaps it's time to replace him."

"Fair point, did you look into the candidates as I asked?"

"Yes, milord," she nodded dutifully. "Samuel Farina remains the next best candidate, but he doesn't have the experience that Aurelius does. Do you want me to arrange for the assembly to vote him in?"

"Not for now," Harry shook his head. "We can't afford to shake things up, Karkoff needs to have confidence in us. If push comes to shove, I'll meet him personally."

"By your command."

"You have a question, speak," Harry instructed. Sarah hesitated, before sighing.

"Was it wise to target Megan and Aurelius like that? Exposing their relationship seemed a tad too far."

"Make no mistake, they could spend the rest of the year as perfect followers and still fail to repair the damage their indiscretions have caused. With my withdrawal from frontline visibility, the student body looks towards you, my circle, as a representation of me, you less than others given the secrecy of your work. Their indiscretion reflects poorly on me. I did not spend so much time and effort to see my reputation tainted; if they don't get their act together, they will be excommunicated from the cause."

"I see. Thank you for entertaining my curiosity, milord."

"Nonsense," Harry chuckled, tracing his finger along her jawline. "Those who are loyal and competent have nothing to fear from me. I do hope you manage to meet your recruitment targets by this month's end."

He patted her on the cheek, his indulgent smile somehow making the intimate gesture frightening as she gaped in surprise. "Oh, did you think that I wasn't aware? Sarah, you of all people should know better."

"It...it won't happen again, milord," she bowed. He hummed noncommittally.

"See that it doesn't. You're harder to replace than most, afterall."

-Break-

Ira smiled politely as the president pinned a medal on her chest, hand lingering slightly longer than strictly necessary. She had no doubt were there not so many cameras pointed, the politician would have copped a feel. Instead, he merely extended a hand, which she clasped in a firm shake, before saluting, after which, the two turned to the cameras.

She hated her ceremonial uniform, a thick overcoat with two columns of golden buttons, overly large gold shoulder rank plates, and a cap in the old Soviet era embroidered with so much gold lining its depictions could be hardly deciphered. She hated having to parade herself in front of politicians and the media, who were fickler than a cat. Still, Ira smiled and waved, to the cheers of the crowd.

'The new patron saint of Poland', she was being hailed, after reports of her stunning victory against the Reds had come. Despite the horrific casualties, her actions had basically destroyed three Russian corps and blunted another two, meaning two thirds of the Reds' forces for Poland had either been captured, killed or routed. The Reds, seeing the writing on the wall, had withdrawn well out of the pre-war borders back into Belarus and Ukraine. If rumours were to be believed, two generals had been executed for the failure.

Even better, the Whites, sensing blood in the water, had signed a hasty truce with the Chinese, surrendering several border territories and giving concessions in lands east of the Urals not unlike the unequal treaties the Chinese had once faced a century ago. But her focus was in Eastern Europe, where the Ukranians and Baltics had officially requested help from the Polish military.

The politicians had been divided on the issue, neither a motion pledging support or outright denying it being able to pass the legislature. If her assistant, a man by the name of Sobieski, was correct, then her stance on the issue would basically tilt the argument one way or another. There were, as always, both reasons for and against:

Pro: it would drastically improve their relations with other Eastern European countries. While thus far the mutualism was predicated on necessity, if she extended a helping hand now, if not the politicians, she would enjoy overwhelming gratitude from the populace of those countries, meaning in future she could command significant influence. It would also keep the Russians as a whole on the back foot, expelling them from this part of the continent.

Con: prolonging the war would mean increasing casualties. Their economy was basically afloat only because of the ridiculous subsidies and under the table handouts by Raven Industries, but they weren't ready to reveal magi-tech weaponry that would significantly reduce casualties. It also meant continuing a war rather than beginning the slow process of rebuilding the Eastern part of the country, which would inevitably wear down her support among the populace.

Pro: it would ensure the military's continued prominence in Polish politics for years to come, basically checking the rumoured intentions of some to begin demobilisation and a drastic culling of military authority. With the near fanatical loyalty of certain units she fought side by side with, even the general staff knew where power lay, and for now she was dictator pro-tempore.

Con: prolonging the war meant a significant risk of operational failures in the future reflecting poorly on her. Especially in Ukraine, the official army was so corrupt and ill funded that most of the fighting was done by partisans and civilian militias. Not only would trying to organise a war against the Reds require coordinating hundreds if not thousands of separate factions ranging from a dozen members to thousands, it also meant large room for missteps; missteps which would reflect poorly on her.

Pro: Successfully pushing back the Reds would effectively establish a Polish sphere of influence and enshrine it as a regional power with dominion over the Baltics and Bielorussia. It would also cripple the Russian military for decades to come, meaning their interests could be turned Westward onto the European continent.

Con: Several other countries, not least the UK and France, had sent thinly veiled messages demanding that Poland not escalate the situation further. Defying this meant straining ties with those countries and possibly appearing as an aggressor.

At the end of the day, her loyalty was foremost to Harry White, and there was only one answer she could possibly give. Taking to the podium, she took a breath of mock solemnity she had seen Harry employ to great effect in commanding attention.

"My fellow patriots, today we have won a great victory, paid for dearly in blood. But our work is far from done, for our security and prosperity cannot be ensured until the cancer that is the Russian Communists is uprooted and extinguished in all of Eastern Europe. To our brothers and sisters North and East, fear not. Just as we once stood in solidarity against the tyranny of Moscow, we will do so again by your side. We have made them bleed, and now it is finally time to deliver the killing blow. Half a century ago, our ancestors in Warsaw were left to die because we refused to submit. We marched to Berlin in rejection of one oppressor, only to be stabbed in the back by another. Today, we repay them in kind. No peace until every single Russian is expelled from Eastern Europe! No peace until we are at the gates of Moscow! God bless Poland and the Polish people!"

"No peace!" one of the soldiers railed, which quickly turned into a chant, with most in the room joining in.

-Break-

"You're going to the duelling club?" Katerina frowned nervously as the two walked towards the hall. "But you haven't gone for months."

"Thanks to the mess the two imbeciles have made, I do believe a show of force is due," Harry grumbled. "I would rather not have to crucify students on the mountain, but I will see this school burned to the ground before allowing it to be a stronghold for either Voldemort or Grindelwald."

"I…see," Katerina gulped, nodding her understanding. "It won't come to that, your forces are well trained. They would crush any threat."

She flinched as he shot her a hard look, tethering between annoyed and disappointed. Katerina wasn't certain which was worse. "Do you know what makes truths? Belief, Katerina. If we believe we can fly, and our enemies believe we can fly, then for all intensive purposes we can fly. Despite being a lie, a figment of imagination, it takes on a form of truth, impacting the way we act, that our enemies act. I care not if they love me, if they hate me, if they are indifferent. What I need is for them to accept my reality as indisputable fact. So long as they bind themselves by my reality, then no matter what they try to do they will be nothing more than actors playing their part on my stage. But when there are contrarians, when we allow slivers of doubt to enter the minds, an alternate reality emerges, the illusion collapses, and we are left with naught but anarchy and suffering."

"Yes milord," Katerina inclined her head in understanding. Harry nodded stiffly, waving his hands and causing the two large oak doors to part. As they entered, there fell a hush, though he showed no outward signs of discomfort.

Walking up to the central podium, he took a seat on the ledge, and gestured to the pit. Understanding the signal, Katerina quickly descended the steps, entering the duelling area, where she bowed to her opponent, a seventh year. Nervously, the judge called for them to begin, his eyes darting every few seconds to gauge Harry's reaction.

Katerina immediately began with a flurry of spells, throwing her opponent on the defensive. Her legs remained rooted on the ground, only her arms moving in crisp motions. Her casting rate, while not prodigious, was nevertheless impressive, casting at a speed any untrained eye would misconstrue for a continuous jet of multicoloured flashes.

Harry turned his scrutinisation to the seventh year, who was keeping up remarkably well through a combination of shielding, dodging and spell deflection. His box step movements, reminiscent of muggle military training, was done with a proficiency that suggested hours of drilling, almost second nature.

He peered into the mind of Katerina, frowning as she offered little resistance. Her mind was focused on analysing and predicting the seventh year's thoughts. Harry sighed internally at this blunder, and projected roughly into her mind, "No legilimency."

He watched her stumble slightly, a momentary stutter to her casting. Even if most wouldn't have noticed the split second slip, Harry's trained eye did, drawing a tut from his lips. Against a seasoned opponent, that could have easily reversed the momentum of battle, even gotten her killed.

To Katerina's credit, she recovered quickly, casting with a similar ruthless efficiency, even if her shots grew minutely more off target, exponentially decreasing their effectiveness. Rather than having slight precognition for where the seventh year would move, she had to guess with visual cues, often waiting several milliseconds for the beginnings of a movement to commit before directing her casting.

He watched as the fight quickly grew more even, with the seventh year's occasional return fire incrementally forcing Katerina to spend increasing amounts of time readjusting rather than continually casting. From then on, it became a battle of attrition, with Katerina's superior magical reserves outlasting the exhausted seventh year, who was felled by a simple stunner.

Katerina looked to Harry as the judge called out her victory, only to wince at his unimpressed glower. Stepping down to the pits, he whispered into her ear. "Did I not make my instructions clear?"

"Milord?" He did not answer her, simply tilting his head. She bowed in deference, stepping out of the ring. It was a breach of tradition in the highest order, yet none dared challenge him on this. Harry turned to the judge.

"Give me your six best."

"I-" gulping at Harry's look, the boy quickly pointed to six students, ranging from fifth to seventh years who nervously trooped down. At the judge's signal, Harry immediately began with a wide arc of pulsating blue fire, forcing all of his opponents to raise shields as flames coiled around them, sentient-like in their savage, animalistic attacks. Harry continued, flicking his wand lazily, causing the floor to bubble as chunks of rock melted into liquid, spurting out in geisers before warping, coiling around the wrists of the six and yanking, forcing all of them to their knees, hands yanked to the side crucifixion pose.

"Winner, White," the judge hastily declared. Harry nodded simply, flicking his wand and dispelling the magic, causing the bindings to liquify, pooling back into the gaps of the floor they emerged from and hardening again, giving no sign they had ever been touched. Harry stepped off the podium, a single look causing Katerina to hastily rush to his side.

"Miord?"

"Do you see what I expected of you? It is not enough to win. You must utterly dominate. It is a battle to cull their hearts. You must make them know complete, utter defeat, and that it is you who brings it."

"Yes, milord. I won't fail you," she resolved, stepping back up to the pit. Turning to the judge, she instructed, "Give me six fresh opponents."

The student turned to Harry, who nodded his assent with a single nod. Calling up another six duellists, Harry took a seat, simply observing impassively as Katerina adopted a lazy pose, her wand pointed at an angle towards her side rather than at the six opponents facing her.

As the judge called for a start, she allowed them to pepper her with attacks. Dozens of spells a second jetted towards her, ranging from simple cutting jinxes to blood boiling curses. Holding her wand in front of her pointed upwards as though it were a sword, she waited until the very last moment before moving into a flurry of action, deflecting each and every single piece of magic. The slight flashes of light as the divergent spell collided with the offensive magic created a spectacle as though she was being peppered by flickering Christmas lights.

Harry heard several gasps from awed onlookers as she continued holding her defence stalwardly against six opponents. After five minutes of this, two of her opponents had collapsed from exhaustion, while the others' casting had slowed to a snail's pace, unable to sustain their initial speed casting. With a swipe of her wand, a wide area stunner knocked all of them out.

The pulse wasn't exceptionally strong, for area magic was always exponentially weaker than a concentrated beam or spell. Had her opponents even managed to cast a basic aventum shield, it would have likely held. Yet exhausted and in shock, none managed, allowing this impressive visual spectacle. Sweat coated and panting, she turned to Harry, who gave a single nod of approval.

-Break-

Hold the line until July 1995, do not antagonise the population.

Enoch sighed tiredly at the letter on his desk. Despite not being signed, there was only one individual this could have been from, being his boss' secretary, Sarah. Sometimes, he wished the girl wasn't so brusque; he could damn well use some advice.

A slam of the door interrupted his musings. Looking up, Enoch sighed tiredly at the sight of the president pro-tempore, barging yet again into his office. Coulzilia Vitiate, successor to the late Dusan Semenov. Far more brash than his predecessor, he had quickly become a headache for Enoch to deal with. The last time the man demanded to host a rally, he had lost three guardians and had another seventeen injured, not to mention the one hundred and eighty four civilian casualties.

"Minister, six of our MPs have been murdered in the past three weeks! Surely you cannot do nothing!" the president pro-tempore slammed his fist on the table. Enoch merely raised an unimpressed eyebrow. "Such a blatant attack cannot go unanswered!"

"And what would you have me do? Knock door to door in the outskirts of every city?" Enoch snorted. From the indignant look of the man across, it seemed like he was about to suggest that. "Even assuming they don't fight back, it would take literal years to get through the entire area! If you politicians would just do as you are told and stay in secure areas, this wouldn't happen."

"We can't be seen cowering and hiding! Do you know what that would do for our political support?"

"If you want to turn yourself into a martyr, be my guest. Semenov did. I'm sure eventually one of your successors will be more pilant," Enoch dismissed. "I'm not going to risk any more of my guardians trying to protect your inflated egos. If you want to go into a warzone, find your own guards."

"That's una-"

"Sigmund. Please escort the president pro-tempore out. We're done here," he ordered his subordinate. The man took an inordinately large amount of glee twisting the man's hand behind his back before frogmarching him out. Enoch couldn't help but chuckle at that, his mood briefly soaring before it was sobered by one of his desk trinkets flashing, signalling yet another emergency meeting was being called.

Heading briskly to the war room, he ordered a subordinate who flanked him brusquely, "Sitrep."

"Major insurgent movement Santigrad and Ravenburg. Our sources say anywhere from a thousand to fifteen are mustering, it's impossible to tell with so many small cells moving on their own. Shall I sound the evacuation orders?"

"I…" Enoch frowned. Logically, he knew he should not sound the alarms. It would ensure that the insurgents continued to believe that they were in the clear, and allow his forces to sustain far less casualties. Yet, in one of the few moments he had to discuss directly with Harry, his superior had made it clear the goal was to prolong the conflict with minimal escalation. 'War for the hearts and minds', he called it. To antagonise the insurgents, many of whom were just angry partisans resentful at the establishment, was, thus, unacceptable. It gnawed on his sensibilities, but much as Harry had told him, 'the greater the suffering, the greater the peace'. "Yes, our duties remain the same: protect as many people as we can. Property can be repaired, lives aren't so easily replaced. Pick off the more violent individuals, but leave the rest well alone."

"Yes sir," the aide nodded, parting ways to relay the order. Enoch continued to the war room, where several of his commanders were already discussing the situation heatedly as various figurines on the board moved, representing their various units and the known location of insurgent groups.

All stood to attention as his entrance was noticed, to which he waved for them to be at ease. "Situation."

"Some idiot politicians decided to hold a rally in the outskirts of various cities. There's already reports of sporadic fighting, guardians are keeping both sides mostly separate for now," Sara Niemietz, the youngest in the room, but also one of his most able officers, quickly summarised.

"Pull them out, I won't have a repeat of Damas Square," he shook his head. Some of his officers looked relieved, while others mutinous, though none disobeyed. One of the aides quickly moved to a floo terminal, relaying the order. "What else?"

"Insurgent movements in Santigrad and Ravenburg. They want to march on city hall. Some councillors are demanding that we stand our ground."

"A march on Rome then," Enoch sighed tiredly. "Let them have it, the crowd will grow tired after a few days. We can then arrest the most radical leaders remaining then. Pull out our forces, if any councillor stays, it's on them."

That was another aspect of the plan: to bring out most if not all the known factions into the light. Apart from the infighting and jockeying for power that culled many of the smaller players, it would allow for them to be purged in one fell swoop when Raven descended like an angel from the sky. He could only hope that the wizards and witches in the room chose the right side then. Facing so many crises together had created a sense of camaraderie between them, and it would hurt to raise his wands against them, even if he would do so should Raven order it.

-Break-

"Otaba, thank you for coming," Harry nodded. "Sit."

"Thank you, milord," the boy bowed his head, sitting as bade. "How may I be of assistance?"

"I am faced with two dilemmas. First, that she still believes herself to be loyal to Grindelwald. I fear I have not much time left to turn her."

"What would you have me do?"

"Now that is the question, isn't it?" Harry chuckled, almost a purring quality to his voice. "But let us face my second dilemma. Some in my circle have been trying to deceive me."

"Milo-"

"Keep quiet, Otaba. You are more valuable than Megan or Aurelius, so for your sake, remain silent," Harry chided in a deadly whisper. "Did you think I wouldn't know? You fear that Serilda being turned would reduce your prominence in the circle, didn't you? You tried to do everything in your power to ensure that wasn't the case, didn't you? Well, let me tell you what that has resulted in. It has resulted in Grindelwald likely knowing of your deception. It has likely resulted in Serilda being far harder to convert to our cause. It has made me lose my trust in you."

"Look at me. If you're going to betray the cause, at least have the decency to look in my eye while doing so." Otaba remained silent, head ducked. "No? Nothing to say?"

"I am loyal, milord. I can prove it!"

"Oh do tell. Tell me how you will make up for the disruptions in dozens of my plans. Tell me how you will make up for losing me not one, but two spies in Grindelwald's camp. Tell me how you will possibly make up for trying to deceive me, so clumsily, I might add."

"I…"

"No," Harry sighed. "There is nothing you could willingly do that would make up for this blunder. Fortunately, I still have use for you. I would say I regret it coming to this, but I would be lying. Obliviate!"

-Break-

"Katerina, can we talk?" Sarah asked. The other girl raised a suspicious eyebrow, but nodded all the same, following her to one of the less used meeting rooms along the transfiguration floor. Both cast their privacy charms, overlaying them on each other. "Thanks."

"You wanted to talk. Talk," Katerina instructed.

"Harry hasn't been the same ever since Taiwan," she ground out. Katerina merely snorted.

"If you're jealous that you've fallen out of his graces, find one of your lackeys to rant to."

"Tell me I'm wrong. Surely you've noticed! He's been far colder, more calculating...it's...unnerving." Sarah's eyes betrayed her desperation to get through to the other girl, and regardless of their mutual dislike, Katerina was hard pressed to deny the truth.

"And what of it? How our lord acts is none of our business."

"And his welfare is not? Look, whatever our differences, we both want the best for Harry. Something is off with him...almost if he's regressing back into what he was like when he first joined Durmstrang."

"You're...not wrong," Katerina signed, causing hope to sprout in Sarah's eyes. "He's far less forgiving, far more ruthless. Something must have...well something must have caused him to distrust us. It just means we'll have to prove ourselves, won't we?"

"It's...it's not as simple as that. Haven't you noticed? His speech, his posture, his...aura even. It's off, everything's bloody off," Sarah spat. "It's...not natural, whatever happened to him, for such a shift."

"What are you saying?"

"Surely you must have noticed. Duelling club, ring any bells?"

"You're very well informed."

"Thank you, it's my job. But he's spent far less time with you training, hasn't he?" Sarah peered at the other girl, who shuffled uncomfortably, an answer in itself. "Don't you miss it? When he would teach you for the sake of it?"

"Of course I do," Katerina thundered. "What in Merlin's name do you want me to do about it? What can we even do?"

"I...look, whatever we had going between us, and don't deny it, let's...just have a truce, for now, alright? It's in both our interests," Sarah offered tentatively. Katerina held her gaze for several moments before nodding stiffly, offering her hand.

"A truce then."

-Break-

"Ah Serilda," Harry greeted warmly. "Sit, sit, can I get you anything?"

"Just water will be fine," the younger girl smiled, accepting the glass with a grateful smile. "Thank you for indulging me, I am aware you're quite busy."

"Nonsense, I always make time for those worth it," Harry chuckled. "I believe today you wanted to talk about runes?"

"Yep, I was a bit stuck on the Scandanavian variation and why it exists," she confessed. "I've read the books, but…"

"It doesn't quite add up, does it?" Harry smiled knowingly. Surprised, Serilda nodded. "You've quite the eye, most would just copy the book and reword it."

"Well that's a waste of time. Learning isn't about regurgitation, it's about understanding."

"Oh, that quote sounds familiar, who is it from?" Harry furrowed his brow. Serilda giggled.

"You, actually, during your speech at the Runes conference last Yule." Harry gave an 'ah', before chuckling. "You're quite the inspiration."

"And pray tell, what else have I inspired?" Harry prompted.

"Well, I've been trying to make more links about arithmancy with runes, it's made spell crafting go much smoother. I've actually managed to create a darkness aversion charm."

"Oh," Harry nodded, giving a thoughtful hum. "I presume a counter to nox?"

"Yep," she pouted, "you spoiled the reveal."

"My apologies, dear. Do tell, what does your spell do?" Harry asked with an exaggerated grin. Serilda rolled her eyes. "But in seriousness, that is a big accomplishment, my congratulations!"

"Thank you. But the spell is unstable because it crosses between sub-dialects. I was hoping you could shed some light on the topic," she admitted, passing him a stack of notes. Harry nodded, accepting the parchment and flicking through them, humming every now and again.

"You'll go far, but never achieve your goal if you continue in this direction. You'll come very close, very close indeed, but never quite realise its full potential," Harry pointed out as he finished skimming the last page. Serilda looked confused before slumping in her seat. "Don't take this wrong, it's an impressive achievement, one I wouldn't expect from one of your seniors. You haven't failed, you've just found an imperfect method. Take heart in that."

"So I have to restart from the ground up?"

"Alas, yes. One of the perils of innovation, you may go so far, only to realise you've gone the wrong way," Harry mused. "Some of this can be reused, this subwork for instance. However, the crux needs to be changed out entirely."

"Got it," Serilda sighed, before brightening. "Thanks for this."

"No problem, though if you would indulge my curiosity, I would be most grateful?"

"Cast away."

"Why do you follow Grindelwald?" Harry queried lightly. The girl stiffened, occlumency clearly clamping into place. "Has he done something for you?"

"I believe in his dream."

"Oh," Harry nodded thoughtfully. "And what do you think his dream consists of?"

"The unification of muggle and wizard kind," Serilda answered confidently. "We shouldn't have to hide ourselves. We're superior to the muggles, and yet we cower and fear. Anything a muggle can do, a magical can, but a muggle will never have magic."

"So it would seem," Harry nodded. "And yet...Grindelwald has done more damage to the cause than any other in history."

"What?" Serilda sputtered. "That's...impossible!"

"Oh? Unless I am very much mistaken, thousands of magicals died in the Great War, did they not?" Harry chuckled amusedly. "Not to mention, that he united all those who believed in his cause and led them to ruin. In his wake, allowing the creation of the modern ICW, which is perhaps the most pervasive anti-integration organisation in magical history. For the muggles, he empowered the Nazis on a campaign of terror that created two superpowers in the USA and USSR, developing weapons that nearly brought extinction to our world. Most damning of all, I don't suppose you've heard of the Nero decree?"

Serilda shook her head, causing Harry to laugh.

"It's not a story a Grindelwaldian would tell you. In the closing days of the war, he ordered suicide charges. Small groups would cast the most destructive spells they knew, usually fiendfyre, and allow it to run amok. Dozens of towns razed, hundreds more scarred even to this day. So much needless death and destruction that would weaken European magicals for decades to come, and for what? I'll tell you, to feed his ego."

"That's-that-that's impossible! He would-"

"Why do you believe him?" Harry pursed his lips. "Because your parents told you to? You realise that they would probably sacrifice you in a heartbeat if the dark lord requested it. You're a virgin, afterall, and those are valuable commodities. Surely you know of the rituals Grindelwald and his lieutenants do."

Serilda shook her head queasily, looking disquieted by the revelation. Harry chuckled, grabbing an old, dusty journal and placing it on the table, sliding it towards her. "His notes in his youth. I think you should understand at least the gist of it."

With much trepidation, Serilda reached out, opening the book, flicking through page after page. Her eyes grew watery with trepidation, then ashen, before she tossed the book back on the table. "They told me...they…"

"Lied, deceived, used you," Harry shrugged unsympathetically. Serilda flinched as though struck.

"And what different are you?"

"I caren't for such things as ego," Harry shrugged. "Perhaps my methods will be equally, if not more deplorable. But everything I do, will be in service of a greater good. The greater good Grindelwald so hypocritically espouses. And more than that, I'm giving you a choice."

"A choice?"

"Tell me, did you follow Grindelwald because you truly understood his vision and believed it? I hope not, if your ignorance for it is anything to go by. Did you follow Grindelwald because of his power? Well he has been surpassed easily by Voldemort. No, I think you followed him because you had nowhere else to go, because it was all you were taught and all you knew. Am I wrong?"

"W-what do you want from me?" she sniffed, occlumency finally cracking. Harry smiled with faux sympathy, standing up and placing a comforting hand on her shoulder. "Why are you doing this?"

"Because I care," he soothed. "Because I believe if you join me, I can help you achieve greatness. Because I think the world would be a better place for it."

"You'd accept me into your ranks? A spy and traitor?"

"Yes."

"And the others? Sarah clearly dislikes me, Katerina barely tolerates my presence. Otaba was a turncoat for Grindelwald, trying to get me into your good graces."

"They will respect my decision," Harry dismissed. "They may not like it, but the choice to join is yours and yours alone."

"And if I say no?"

"Then I let you walk away," Harry shrugged. "I suppose my gamble would have been lost, and my time spent with you largely wasted."

"Truly you wouldn't stop me?" she furrowed her brows. Harry chuckled.

"I don't force anyone to join me. Murum aries attigit. So long as you don't resist, you are of little concern to me."

"The ram has touched the wall," she recanted, drawing an appraising, grudgingly impressed look from Harry. "I will stand with you, for in war, that who is not my friend is necessarily my enemy. I am neither strong enough nor valuable enough to be neutral."

"A wise decision," Harry smiled. "Have Otaba brief you on how to be inconspicuous in Grindelwald's camp."

"He was-of course he was," she sighed tiredly. Harry merely smiled.

-Break-

"Come in," Karkoff's oily voice barked. Aurelius straightened his uniform, stepping inside. "Sit."

Frowning, he nevertheless did as he was told, eyeing the stack of papers in front of the highmaster. "We will be discussing the Magical Ability Global Interschool Competition. Dumstrang will be taking ten students a year from year four to seven. I trust White will select those most competent. There will be several events apart from the main champion competition, including academic events in runes, arithmancy and potions, along with general knowledge. There will also be a quidditch and duelling tournament. I trust that the best students for all of these will be selected."

"Priority?"

"Main event, duelling, academics, quidditch," Karkoff sniffed disdainfully. "See that we win. It would bolster our prestige significantly among our peers. We cannot afford to look like fools."

"Of course highmaster," Aurelius nodded, inwardly rolling his eyes. "Is there anything else?"

"Of course there is, you miserable brat," the man scoffed. "If White isn't going to see me, tell him to at least send a lackey that knows to shut up and listen. The events will be spread over the year. We will arrive on October 30th via the Durmstrang ship. The champion selection will take place on October 31st, and November first all the other teams must be finalised. For quidditch, there will be sixty six matches in round robin, which translates to roughly three games a week, from the first week of November. For the academic competition, we field two teams of three, the teams will remain the same for the three ICW guild challenges as well as the tournament grand challenge. For the duelling tournament, ten candidates can enter, though they'll be placed in a pool, with roughly two thirds qualifying. That'll be in April. What else...ah, there will be a Yule ball, so make sure all the students have proper dress robes and know how to dance. There'll be a welcoming ceremony, make sure we have something prepared for that. Do make sure that our contestants have at least passable English.

Professors Aribage, Irman, Tomak and Zakharov, healer Farina and I will be going with the delegation. Classes will be conducted in joint sessions with students from the other schools, though how exactly their classrooms will hold that many I'm uncertain. That's all the important bits, be sure to tell that to your master. These go into greater detail with things such as security arrangements. Get it sorted."

"Of course, highmaster," Aurelius forced a polite smile, taking the stack of parchment and leaving the room.

Author Note:

For those who caught the Cold War pun, well done! Solidarity, as spoken in Ira's speech, has both its literal meaning, as well as a specifically Polish double entendre. In the 1980s, civil resistance against the Communists was notable for its cooperation between academics (students) and workers, in what has become known as the Solidarity movement. Thus, she uses the term as an appeal to the Polish determination for resistance against Communism in all facets.

An amazing question on the discord server from Porp64209 on what Harry's end goal is. I think I've kept this vague intentionally as a parallel to a philosophical argument on purpose. A warrior fights for a world of peace in which they have no place, so once peace is achieved, what then? In my mind, a warrior can never return to peace, because their very being is defined by war and conflict. They will inevitably try to seek conflict even where there is none. Society's very much a juxtaposition in this sense, everyone trying to balance out keeping themselves relevant and achieving a grander purpose. In the grand scheme of things, I daresay we are left unsatisfied. An example I love using is the self-help genre, which I have a passionate hatred for. Fundamentally, most will advertise useless gimmicks that only give short bursts of results before returning to normal, or worse encourage toxic positivity. Their genre has no incentive to actually help people out of their desperate situation, because those very people need to be kept in such a state for the market of self-help to thrive. A more historical example: the government of Russia could easily crack down on Vodka production, yet it doesn't because its power is affirmed by an alcoholic population. A Russian male who is too drunk to think about the misery he is in, who is too drunk to think about anything but working the basic amount to continue feeding his alcoholism, who beats his wife into submission and children such that they will grow up to be drunks themselves, is a Russian in service to the security of the state. Interestingly enough, it was why the Communist party was originally prohibitionist, because they believed, rightly so, that state subsidised alcohol was a tool of the upper class to suppress the Russian people. Ironically enough, Stalin reopened the plants for the very same purpose: to keep the population subjugated through drunkenness. Inevitably, Russian society will have to confront its alcoholism problem due to its impact on crime rates, social stagnation and lost productivity, yet no government wants to do so in the immediate present because alcoholism is very much a tool of state security. Using a more light hearted example, an environmental conservationist's ideal world is one where there is no need or want for environmental conservationists. So the question becomes, for those who make their livelihoods on it, what will they do? These are questions that have no easy answers, not least due to the paradoxical and self-contradictory nature of humans. It's why I've never quite enjoyed the 'fairytale ending', because real life is far more complicated than that. How does one content themselves with mediocrity once they've achieved greatness? What does one do when they've reached the end of the road and arrived at their destination? These are questions that I very much hope to be on the forefront of your mind as you depart from Harry Potter and the Raven.

Seeing as you indulged me on such a long rant, I'll give a bit of an answer and say that I aim for the ending to be bittersweet. Harry's goal is, to put it bluntly, is to create a better world, where stuff that happened to him while he was Raven can never happen again. In this, his goal is similar to Sarah, who also has scars of the past, and wishes to atone for it. While perhaps not the definitive answer you were looking for (because that would spoil it, wouldn't it?), I can tell you it won't be a pyrrhic victory like a Shakespearean tragedy, nor will it be a Disney happily ever after.

As always, thank you for the question, and to all you readers, thank you for sticking around for so long! If you enjoyed, consider following and favouriting, it shows your appreciation for the hard work that goes into writing this story. This chapter was definitely a slog, taking twice as long as normal to write, with only your encouragement and support keeping me going. Liked something? Disliked something? Just want to say hi? I'm no legilimencer, I can't know how I'm doing if you don't tell me! Any and all feedback is both welcome and appreciated, as it helps me become a better author, and in turn, deliver a better story for your enjoyment. Until next time, toodles!