"Do you honestly expect me to believe that?" Credence asked skeptically.
Harry pouted. "Believe what you'd like, but how else can you explain what you saw? I wasn't going to tell anyone, because I didn't want to accidentally turn the tide of the war and give Grindelwald an undue advantage. He has to lose Credence, if he won, there would be complete destruction, not just of Muggles and Muggleborns, but everyone."
"Maybe there needs to be a cleansing, a clean slate that we can build upon to create a new age of magic, free of judgement, free to be who we are," Credence argued.
Harry couldn't believe it. "You…do you know what's going on out there? The death, destruction, the bombings? Do you know what's being done in his name?"
"It is necessary," Credence replied firmly.
Harry shook her head. "It is never necessary, I can't believe you can condone this. What would Dumbledore say?"
"You are being a hypocrite," Credence spat. "If Dumbledore really cared about the lives of innocents, he could have stopped this war much sooner and done what he needed to do. Why do you think he's hiding away in his school? He doesn't care about you, or me, or anyone."
Harry remained silent as the two of them stood still, breathing heavily.
"I had some conflicting feeling about Dumbledore myself. I thought for a while he was using me, trying to navigate my fate for the most utilitarian purpose, the greater good, if you will," she chuckled darkly. Credence quirked his eyebrow.
"But, if there's one thing I know about him, he does care. And I'm sure he does care about you, Credence, if he knows about you, perhaps he cares too much." Harry replied earnestly, her fingertips brushing against his hand. Credence quickly pulled away.
"I've spent my whole life amongst some of the best emotional manipulators out there, Gellert included. You're going to have to do a better job than that," Credence muttered. He stared at her for a moment as Harry waited, wondering if his Obscurus would emerge and attack her again.
When it did not, Harry relaxed. "Maybe it's not too late, you know." She gestured to their surroundings. "We are in one of the biggest libraries of Dark Magic in all of Europe. I'm sure we can find a cure for the blood curse before it's too late."
Credence looked at her doubtfully. "What do you think I've been trying to do all these years? Anyway, I've lost Nagini. I don't know if she'd ever want to see me again."
"She will if we can find a cure," Harry replied determinedly. "Now what is the mechanics of a Blood Curse, exactly?"
Harry found her days were kept busy by rigorous training and constant supervision from Gellert. While she knew it was to make sure she did not escape, she found herself almost enjoying his presence. Mornings were early and she often ended up in Gellert's bed. If she did not get up by dawn, Grindelwald would levitate her and drop her out of bed. After a quick shower (sometimes if she was lucky, he'd relent and join her), they would spar. Much to his annoyance, she still relied heavily on the Disarming Spell.
"You're going to need to vary your spells. You will be dead in less than two minutes if you keep repeating your spells and movements," Gellert frowned as he trounced her once again. "Get up. I'm not going to be easy on you."
Harry groaned as she spat blood from her mouth and tried to stand on her twisted ankle, but she stood. She always got back up. "I won't use Dark Curses."
Gellert scoffed. "No one ever said you had to. But they are certainly more powerful. A good wizard uses all tools available in his arsenal, and it shouldn't matter if the spell is considered Dark. For now, just focus on the fundamentals. Play up your strengths. Dueling is just as much about speed as it is skill, but it's also about understanding your opponent's weaknesses."
"But you don't have any weaknesses." Harry replied in exasperation.
Much to her annoyance, Gellert gave a satisfied grin. "You won't be dueling anyone of my caliber anytime soon. If you can hold your own against me, I will consider your training…satisfactory."
Harry nodded, and they stood facing each other, wands drawn.
After their morning duel, Gellert would decide which death trap to throw Harry into.
Would it be the room of deadly puzzles, the sculpture garden of enchanted stone ogres, the pit of the Echidna, or perhaps the labyrinth of assorted carnivorous topiaries?
Harry hated all of them, and then some.
"I think today we'll try the Fire Room," Gellert suggested casually. The Fire Room, of course, was the sealed stone room that would spout fireballs from the floor at random.
Harry rolled her eyes. "Of course. Any reason why we're going there?"
"Just wanted to confirm a theory," Gellert replied cryptically.
The Fire Room was a large stone chamber in the depths of the castle, with a large two-way stair and upper floor for observation. Once Gellert reached the top, Harry stood in the center of the room. When Gellert raised his wand, fire began to spout from the floor with a casual flick of the wrist.
As Harry dodged the flames, one after another, Gellert silently watched, his eyes darting across the floor, following her as she ducked and glided, narrowly missing as her robes were barely singed. As Harry began to lose her breath, she continued to nimbly dance around the flames, never touching the fire. Satisfied, Gellert waved his wand and the flames retreated back to the floor, the room cold and barren once more.
"Incredible," he mused.
"Thank you," beamed Harry. "I do have quick reflexes."
"No one could be that fast. I had programed the flames to move at random, faster than normal human reaction time. By all accounts, you should have died."
"Well, perhaps my reaction time is faster than average," Harry argued. "I am very good at Quidditch."
"Or perhaps you are able to bypass death. Not through the traditional idea of immortality, but through increased odds of survival."
He climbed down the observation deck and joined her out the room. They headed back to Gellert's quarters and sat by the fire. As they sat in the plush leather winged chairs, Gellert summoned some schnapps and poured a glass for the two of them.
"Increased odds? You don't mean like something similar to Felix Felicis do you?" Harry asked, sipping her drink.
Gellert shook his head. "Not exactly. Your overall luck isn't affected, but it seems you are able to survive impossible scenarios, as if your narrow misses and blind spots in your opponents make you almost impervious."
"But that's not out of the ordinary. What you're describing was normal for me, even before coming in contact with the Hallows," Harry replied.
This certainly piqued Gellert's interest. "Could you elaborate on that?"
"Nothing of note," Harry commented. "I once fell off my broom at a high height, and I was bitten by a large snake, attacked by a horde of Dementors, attacked by Inferi, among other things."
"Fairly normal childhood," Gellert replied drily. "Especially for a Muggleborn."
"What can I say? I liked to travel."
"I know you are hiding your past from me, Harry. Frankly, I'm offended after all this time you feel the need to." Gellert down the rest of his drink and placed it on the fireplace.
Harry gulped, her cheeks flushing red. "I don't see how my past is relevant to this discussion."
"Aurelius has been telling me these ridiculous tales about you being from the future and that you were a human Horcrux? Honestly, I didn't think he'd believe that sort of rubbish, but you're not going to try to bluff me. Now, be honest with me. Have you come in contact with all the Hallows?" Gellert stared intently into her eyes, his gaze intense, his countenance filled with quiet anger.
"Yes." Harry answered firmly.
Gellert nodded. "I thought so. Where did you find the cloak?"
"In England. But I don't have it anymore." Harry lied.
Gellert continued to stare at her coldly. "I've killed others for less. If I could kill you now, I would for your lies."
Harry held her breath, before gathering her courage. She stood up. "Then do it. I will not be intimidated by you, and you don't have any power over me. Last I checked, your wand- the most powerful wand in the world, wouldn't let you kill me."
Gellert glared at her, seething. She could tell he was about to snap, ready to lose his temper and start flinging curses, like he would when he received news of a defeat. Instead, he composed himself and took a deep breath.
"Very well. Perhaps you are right. I think we should alleviate that. Give me your arm."
Reluctantly, Harry lifted her arm, wand in hand. "You want me to make an Unbreakable Vow, don't you?"
Gellert nodded. "If I can't earn your trust, I have no other choice. Perhaps it was time we took the next step towards commitment, wouldn't you agree my dear?"
Harry's eyes widened. She couldn't see a way out of this. Reluctantly, she clasped his arm in hers.
"I will need you to swear loyalty to me. If I catch you actively trying to betray me or my cause, I will consider it a breach of the Vow. This includes omission of the truth and disobedience. Is this understood?"
"I understand," Harry replied in a hollow voice, the ramifications of her actions hitting her squarely in the chest. She wanted to scream.
As the light from the magic swirled around them, Harry felt the bonds of the contract tighten around her, and felt the finality of her oath.
Gellert let go of his arm, and embraced her, pulling her deep into a kiss. As they let go for air, Gellert stroked her hair and murmured in her ear, "No more secrets."
Eagerly, he kissed her again, bringing her down to the floor of the study, onto the bearskin rug. He undid her clothes frantically, his kisses running down her neck, and collarbone, and across her torso. He gently caressed her arms, which were still sore from the Vow, and she shuddered. She was out of breath, but exhilarated. As his left hand rubbed the nape of her neck, his right hand moved downward. Harry let go, allowing herself to be lost in the warmth of the fire and the consuming intensity of Gellert.
As the weeks passed, she and Credence would visit Gellert's family library in the evening and pour over the thousands of books and scrolls. Surprisingly, Credence didn't ask her for too many details about what was to come. Perhaps he believed her lie that she never paid enough attention in History class to know in detail, or perhaps his heart wasn't really in victory. Harry noticed there was a sense of frustration, isolation, in his behavior. Grindelwald had told her it was self-imposed, but it seemed that Credence never belonged to any side or ideology. At mealtimes, he kept to himself. Harry found he would stay sullen at the table, while Gellert and the rest of his followers chatted. Harry of course joined in, though it seems she was accepted more as an oddity than an equal. Earning the title of Grindelwald's new protégé would do that, she supposed. Or maybe it was their gossip about her status as Grindelwald's much too young lover. But it seems Credence didn't care at all what happened in the war, and that unsettled Harry the most.
Instead, he was reinvigorated by the idea of having a partner help him research a cure.
Harry joined him in the library one evening to see Credence examining a long yellowed scroll of parchment. The ink from the glyphs was worn, almost illegible.
"What language is that?" Harry asked curiously.
"Khymer," Credence muttered. "The earliest record of a Maledictus was recorded in the scroll. Our Japanese associates were able to procure this for me."
Harry wondered how this scroll was procured, but she didn't want to ask.
Credence lifted his wand over the parchment and muttered an incantation. Slowly, letters and glyphs lifted from the parchment, floating in the air in a light blue light, winding around the motion of his wand movements. Slowly, the words transformed into the shape of a phoenix, disappearing in a flash of flames.
"Interesting," Credence noted.
"What was that?" Harry asked. "Why a phoenix?"
"Do you know why some magical families have affinities with certain traits?" Credence asked.
"Like how Salazar Slytherin's descendants can speak Parseltongue?" Harry added.
"That's a very specific example, yes," Credence smirked. "I was of course referring in general, how magic is unique in some aspects but uniform in those with familial bonds. Why blood and family is so important to us Magicals." He motioned Harry to sit next to him as he demonstrated, conjuring smoke from his wand into figures.
"Magic is bound not by any physical force to the individual. Trying to find a logical explanation as to how it works goes against the point of Magic itself."
He conjured a small figure of himself, and a beautiful woman with dark hair, pale skin, and a beautiful green dress.
"Is this Nagini? She's beautiful," Harry whispered.
"Yes," Credence choked. "Please don't interrupt. We can't look for a physical cure to a Magical disease because it's tied into the very essence of one's self. One can't excise it like it's a tumor, it's too metaphysical for that. You'd have to extract it from the core of their being."
"Their soul," Harry finished.
Credence nodded. "Yes. You know, I always thought the soul was a Muggle invention disproved by Muggle science. I lived my life with the fear of a God judging the actions of my decision, weighing my soul. My mother, I mean the woman I used to call my mother, used to scare me with the idea. I never would have assumed after Gellert revealed the truth to me that she might have had a point"
Harry furrowed her brows. "Can you do that? Excise the curse from her soul while keeping it intact?" she asked.
"Not as far as I can tell. There's no record of anyone attempting to do so, and any cocktail of potions I've thought of wouldn't be enough. I'd need to be able to administer the treatment directly to the soul, " Credence replied, furiously flicking his wand, causing the illusion of Nagini to vanish. "It's hopeless."
"What about using something similar to the Horcrux ritual?" Harry asked.
Credence eyed her suspiciously. "I'd think you would be the last person to want to create Horcruxes."
Harry bit her lip. "I'm not happy suggesting it, and if there are other rituals that lead to direct exposure of the soul, I'm open to suggestions."
Credence stood up and rushed over to the bookcase. He picked up a giant old tome and slammed it on the table. Quickly, he flipped through the yellowing thick parchment. He stopped on a specific page and ran his finger through the Latin text. He made a noise in frustration and shook his head.
"No dice. The soul can only last out of the body for a few minutes at most, so she'll be dead before the countercurse can take effect."
"There has to be a way." Harry murmured. "What if we used the diadem? I'm sure its powers could help up come up with a better solution."
"Do you think that would work?" Credence asked skeptically.
"It might," Harry replied with a weak smile. "But first I have to get it back from Gellert."
(AN: I apologise for the delay- again. Life got in the way. I'll pick up the pace soon and the Grindelwald section of this story might be pretty short, or longer if you guys are interested. We'll get back to Voldemort soon though, he is the main focus of the story after all)