Harry sat at her table in Knockturn Alley, nursing a beer.
She hadn't had time to change after her duties, so she was the only witch in a cloak and muddy overalls. She found herself standing out a bit in the sea of mismatching gaudy robes that wizards and witches were fond of. She had made inquiries about who to contact for an illegal Portkey, and after some endeavors had managed to find someone. He was a gruff looking man, probably in his mid-60's with dirty clothes and a scruffy beard.
He sat next to her at the table and gave a grunt of acknowledgement. "Alright?"
Harry nodded. "I take it everything is in order?"
The man grunted, "Do you have the money?"
Harry slid the bag of gold into his hand. "Two Hundred Galleons, as we agreed."
It hadn't been easy converting Muggle money into Galleons. The exchange rate was through the roof thanks to the war, and the Goblins created such a fuss when she tried to exchange such a large sum, even if it was over the span of a few weeks. The Pound was practically worthless, and they thought she was essentially stealing their gold by legal means. It was only when she agreed to exchange guineas that they could melt for metals that they even considered exchanging.
The man frowned, and picked up the bag, examining the contents.
"You leave tomorrow. You're going to the drop off point in Dover, have you been there before?"
Harry shook her head.
"Right. Well, here are the coordinates, and then you'll take your Portkey to your destination. Merlin knows why a young thing such as yourself would want to go to Albania in the middle of the war."
"You can rest assured, sir, I can take care of myself." Harry replied firmly.
He looked skeptical, but said nothing.
"But I would like to thank you, Mister…"
"Fletcher."
"Really?" Harry asked. Could this man be Mundungus's father? Perhaps he was a bit old, then again it was none of her business.
"You've heard of me?" He asked, pride puffing up in his chest.
"Only that you're the best at what you do." Harry joked. She hoped the Portkey would work, and that it didn't leave anything behind.
Grindelwald found it was almost laughable how easy it was to cross back into England. The Ministry has so many gaps in their protections, it was so easy to enter and leave the country undetected. They never would have expected he would arrive not by magical means, but by boat.
As he Apparated from the cliffs of Dover to the area described in the telegram, he adjusted his bearings and held his wand tightly. He could feel the power of the Elder Wand surging through his veins as its true Master, and he could sense the other Hallows were near. This was the place, it emanated old magic.
As he examined the ruins of the charred mansion, Gridelwald paced around the property, looking for a sign. He saw the burnt remains of phosphorous paint hidden in the ruins, and muddy footsteps still visible in the remains of the wooden floorboards- small, from what looked to be rubber boots. Perhaps a child?
He placed a tracking charm of his own creation, a handy spell that identified any magical signatures in a five kilometer radius. He found three. Two in the same spot deep within the woods, and one closer to the fields of this burnt out estate. Perhaps the latter was a sentinel, he would avoid it until he had a better idea.
As he walked deeper into the woods, the pull of magic increased, he was getting closer. It must be the Stone.
He stopped when he reached a small hovel. Could the Stone possibly in here?
He blasted the door open and stepped inside.
Two men, hideous and weak, were cowering on the floor prostrate in front of him.
"My Lord!" The older man gasped. "What an honor it is to be in your presence. We were expecting you."
Expecting him? Who could have known he was coming.
Grindelwald pointed his wand at the man's face, watching him shake in terror. "Did Dumbledore warn you?" He growled.
The idiot's face faltered in confusion. "Dumbledore? No, we would never associate with that Blood traitor."
Grindelwald cast the Cruciatus. It wasn't in the practice of doing so, but it felt necessary. He took little pleasure in watching the man writhe in pain, screaming as spittle came out his mouth.
"Do not insult Albus Dumbledore, he is worth more than either of you. If he did not warn you, who did?"
"Walburga Black, sir." The other man, slightly younger and stupider than the one he tortured, replied. "She stopped by a few weeks ago and told us you were interested in our family ring. But you can't have it, Dark Lord or not. That is Salazar Slytherin's ring."
The Blacks were on his side. He personally knew Pollux and was Walburga's godfather, he named her. She certainly wouldn't go out of her way to try to stop him. Someone was impersonating her, someone who didn't want him to have the Stone.
"Where is it?" Grindelwald growled. "Tell me, Boy, you try my patience."
"Under the floorboards," croaked the older man, wheezing. But you'll never be able to undo the curse we've placed on it," he taunted.
Swiftly, Grindelwald lifted the floorboards with a wave of his wand, and threw them to the side hitting the two men as they screamed. He lifted the ring with a floating charm, and examined it careful not to touch.
"I see you've placed a Blood curse. Anyone who's not of your Blood will undergo necrosis if they touch this." Grindelwald surmised after examining the ring. "Impressive...I didn't catch your name."
"Gaunt, My Lord. We are one of the oldest Families, one of the few who keep the old ways," the man replied.
"I assume that is your heir," Grindelwald motioned to the other man, and he nodded.
Grindelwald lifted the heir up in the air, strangling him with a wave of his wand. "Undo the curse of Slytherin's line will end in two minutes."
"I can have other children," Gaunt replied. "You will not be getting this ring."
Grindelwald waved his wand again, allowing the curse to strengthen, tightening the air against the other man's windpipe.
"Father, please," he begs, his voice gasping.
Finally, Gaunt relented, grabbing the ring and a knife. He cut his thumb, allowing the blood to drip onto the ring, and started chanting in Parseltongue. Interesting.
The ring glowed in an eerie, dim light, then shook. As it returned to its original state, the man sighed. He lifted the ring up to Grindelwald.
"Here's the last known artifact of Salazar Slytherin, fallen into undeserving hands," Gaunt muttered. "Now give me my son."
Grindelwald undid the curse, allowing the man to slump to the floor.
"You can have his body. I'm afraid you were too late."
As Gaunt wailed, holding his son in his arms, Grindelwald cast the Killing Curse. It would be best to have no witnesses.
Harry had packed her limited possessions in a small blanket and checked her watch, she had a few hours before she was to depart for Dover. Perhaps she should check on the Gaunts. She wouldn't bother trying to disguise herself again, she'd just spy on them while wearing the cloak.
She made her way to the house when she saw green light flashing through the windows. She took off her cloak, stuffing it into her pocket and ran in, wand out.
"Alright Tom, stop right there. It's over!" Harry shouted. Her eyes widened when she saw that it was in fact, not Tom Riddle.
"Oh Merlin," she gasped
"Worse, I'm afraid."
Grindelwald was even more imposing in person than how he was described in textbooks. His manner was composed, yet chilling. He was smartly dressed in some combination of a suit and robes, his hair shockingly white and his eyes two different colors, brown and electric blue. Both staring down at Harry with an intent to kill.
"Expelliarmus!" Harry shouted, ducking out of the way.
Grindelwald lifted his arm, missing the spell.
"That won't work on me, Miss Black, or whatever your name really is. Imbolius
Harry rolled over, missing the spell. She continued to use the Disarming Charm - it had worked last time to defeat the last Master of the wand, and kept dodging. She ran out of the house, with Grindelwald following behind.
Desperate, she apparated to her point in Dover, stumbling as she landed in a somersault on the cliff, panting as she found herself inches from the edge.
"Still having trouble with apparition?" Fletcher asked. "It takes practice. Anyway, you're early. Fancy a cuppa?"
He took out a grubby looking thermos and his wand. He tapped it open, allowing it to float, opening up on his own and pouring out a capful of lukewarm tea.
Hardy accepted it nervously, making sure it wasn't drugged. "Why are you being so nice to me?" She asked suspiciously.
"Not sure really. Perhaps you remind me of my own girl. She's a bit older than you of course. But it doesn't seem right, seeing you out on your own. Now drink up."
Seeing his insistence at her drinking the tea, Harry was sure it was drugged. She held it in her hands to keep her warm.
Grindelwald searched for the girl, but it was no use. She was gone. He was going to find her, find out how she knew about the Hallows, and why she wanted to stop him. He was going to have to get out of the country soon. He couldn't be too close to Albus, the pact made it so that they could sense each other.
So why hadn't he felt Albus's presence? Had he broken the pact? He was going to have to train Aurelius harder.
Resigned, he lifted his wand, apparating to his rendezvous point in Dover.
"It's time," Fletcher announced. He took a disc out of his pocket and threw it on the floor. Slowly, the disc inflated and took the shape of a basket. "Step in."
Harry placed her feet in the basket and took one last look out at the coast.
"The sea is calm tonight," Harry stated sadly, thinking of the poem that shared its name with the beach.
"You're a bit of a nutter, aren't you? Well stay safe, try to keep yourself in one piece," Fletcher replied. Perhaps that was his form of a farewell.
She noticed a figure in the distance, pushing a boat across the shore. Could it be? It was a man in a suit, his shocking white hair flashing in the moonlight. He was about to push to sea when he turned around, facing the cliff. Silently, he cast Lumos.
"We've been found!" Fletcher gasped.
"Quiet!" Harry hissed. "How long do we have before the Portkey activates?"
"Five minutes. Sorry love, looks like you're on your own." With that, he apparated away.
Harry watched in horror, standing still in her basket as she saw Grindelwald abandon his boat and lift his wand. With a snap, he was standing in front of her.
"The Ministry will know you are here, they can detect wand signatures." Harry threatened.
Grindelwald laughed. "Your Ministry is a joke, and uses its deficiencies to hide its cowardice. Besides, I won't be here very long."
To her horror, he stepped into the basket. Their bodies only centimeters away, his breath warm on her neck as he wrapped one arm around her waist.
"Tell me, Girl, where are we going?" He asked, mischief in his voice. Playful, similar to a cat toying with his prey.
Harry felt as if the words were wooden, shuddering in fear, "Albania."
With a pop, the basket was gone, and the sea continued to draw back and fling.