Jul 14

When the

Roses Bloom

Again -

Closing the

Corridor Having spent as many evenings as she had in the den of

debauchery that was the bar in Berlin, Eleanor had learned

much of how the wizarding underworld worked, though it

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certainly helped the perpetrators that Grindelwald

seemingly had no care for what happened within these

walls.

She had almost become desensitised to what occurred on a

nightly basis; the violent deaths, the smell of evacuated

bowels, and the pained screams that the crowd seemed to

love.

Eleanor would never become one of them, but she had

adapted, all in the pursuit of finally uncovering the truth of

who Weber was.

On that front, she had been mostly unsuccessful.

The man was little more than a shadow that loomed over

his empire, careful not to out himself to his patrons or even

those that worked for him, but the one that benefitted from

the suffering and misery here, and undoubtedly other

establishments Eleanor knew nothing of.

What she had learned was that Weber was as cunning as he

was elusive, never allowing himself to be directly connected

to anything that transpired under his direction.

She had hoped that the bald man that oversaw this

particular venture would be able to lead her to him, but that

hope had been dashed quite quickly. Much like the illegal

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duelling, those that oversaw never met Weber directly, only

corresponding through letters.

At the end of each night, the gold would be taken to a

nearby branch of Gringotts where it would be deposited

into an account held under a fake name, and though

Eleanor had tried to carry out a robbery using her typical

means, it wasn't to be.

Evidently, the goblins had learned from their mistakes, and

Gringotts had secured themselves against such a thing.

As much as she had learned about how the operation

worked, Eleanor had little to show for her efforts and had

already considered what options she now had.

She had thought at first that she would attempt to begin

following Gaulitier, who had frequented the bar on a

number of occasions, but given the man's reputation, she

thought better of it.

Evans had urged caution where The Beast of Berlin was

concerned, and Eleanor did not wish to push her luck.

She could simply continue as she was, but to her, it would

only prove to be more time wasted.

There was little else she could glean from her observations,

and it was unlikely that she would learn anything else of

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value.

No, she needed to present her findings to Evans and allow

the man to make a decision on what he would do.

She would continue to help him in any way she could, but

in her current position, she had done all that could be

expected of her.

Short of attempting to ingratiate herself with the men here,

there was nothing else for it.

Once this final evening had come to an end, she would

send him a message, and was hopeful that he would know

what to do next.

(Break)

Charlus watched as Harry's eyes trailed across the map and

waited for the man to make a decision. He would need to

be certain of their next move before committing, and Harry

wouldn't do so until he had meticulously planned each

option.

It had been a little over three months since he'd returned

from his last trip to Britain, and in around six weeks, he

would be welcoming his first child into the world.

Still, Harry had remained with the men, relying only on

letters from Minerva to keep him abreast with news of the

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pregnancy and how she was coping.

How his friend had been so dedicated to the war, Charlus

would never know, but here he was, continuing to push

them on towards a victory the men of the ICW finally

began to believe was possible.

"What are you thinking, Harry?" Yaxley asked.

Harry held up a hand for silence, his focus unwavering

from the task at hand.

He had been this way since he'd returned from Britain;

focused, relentless, and almost a man possessed when it

came to removing Grindelwald's influence from across the

continent.

As such, the men had been granted little respite.

For weeks now they had swept across the length and

breadth of the Ukraine, liberating city after city they came

to before moving on to the next.

Charlus had lost count of how many of Grindelwald's men

they had slaughtered, or how many more had fled, but

what became clear from Yaxley and Gilbert's report on Kyiv

was that those of the latter had not left the country.

No, they had converged on the capitol where they would

evidently make their last stand against them.

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"You're sure there are around a thousand?" Harry

questioned the two men.

"Give or take," Yaxley answered.

Harry nodded his understanding, scratching at his beard as

he continued to ponder their approach.

The ICW forces numbered considerably more than one

thousand and was growing with the Ukrainians that were

swelling their numbers who wished to fight for their

homeland.

Despite this, Grindelwald's own were growing too, the man

seemingly as busy as he had always been in his efforts to

recruit more followers.

Still, an advantage of numbers here meant little when the

enemy held the final bastion of Grindelwald's forces in the

region.

According to the natives, the magical district of Kyiv was a

perfectly defensible position and would not be easily taken,

with some claiming that it would be impossible.

Were it not for Harry's knack of making what people

believed to be impossible happen, Charlus would perhaps

doubt their success, but he had learned long ago to never

bet against his friend.

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"How long until Petr gets here?" Arcturus questioned.

"He is coming from the east as we speak," Harry explained,

tracing a line from near the Russian border to their position

south of Kyiv on the map. "He should arrive in a couple of

days."

The Russians had been invaluable here, Petr seemingly as

determined as Harry to relieve the people here of

Grindelwald's hold.

Between him and Harry, they had smashed their way

through the defences in their way to bring them to where

they found themselves now.

"We cannot attack so openly," Harry murmured, frowning

at the map. "We will be slaughtered before we can position

ourselves. No, there must be another way."

Charlus too gazed at the parchment, looking for any route

they could use to access the magical district, but there

didn't seem to be any.

"I have an idea," Harry declared, "but it's risky."

"It's always risky," Gilbert snorted. "What's the plan?"

Harry nodded thoughtfully.

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"I'm not completely certain it will work. I will need to scout

it first."

"Come on then, Reg," Gilbert sighed dramatically.

"No," Harry interrupted as the men began preparing

themselves. "I'll take this one. Rest, you've both earned it."

Gilbert and Yaxley nodded gratefully.

For the past week they had been away from the camp,

doing their utmost to find a way into the city and get an

idea of the force they faced.

Somehow, they had managed it, but the way in was not a

viable option for all of them.

"All of you rest," Harry urged. "Charlus, you'll be in charge

until I get back or Petr does."

"What're you thinking, Harry?" Charlus asked as the rest

of the men went about their own business.

"You'll know soon enough," Harry assured him as he began

packing a few things to take.

He wasn't purposely being secretive, but with the new men

amongst them and their past experiences of having been

spied on, they could not afford to take chances.

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"Have you heard from Minerva?"

Harry smiled as he nodded.

"She's doing as well as can be expected," he murmured.

"Perenelle is visiting her almost daily, and her mother is

with her most of the time she's away from the castle."

"Not long now," Charlus reminded him.

"No," Harry muttered, "and I'll likely still be here."

Charlus squeezed his shoulder comfortingly.

He had no woman at home on the verge of birthing his

children, but Arcturus did, receiving the news of his wife's

pregnancy shortly after Harry returned.

The two men had bonded over their impending

fatherhood, something that most back home would never

believe with the traditional Black view of those that were

not purebloods.

It amused Charlus to no end to hear of the duo voicing

their thoughts on parenting, discussing potential names,

and even their fears.

"But your child will be safe and waiting for you when you

go home."

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"If I make it back," Harry sighed. "There a no promises

during war, Charlus. As much as I wish there could be,

there is no guarantee I will even meet them."

"Don't say that!" Charlus snapped angrily. "You will make it

through this. I won't let you die out here."

Harry released a deep breath and smiled gratefully.

"Sorry, it's hard to stay positive sometimes with how much

there is left to do."

"I know," Charlus sympathised, "but we will get there. We

haven't fought so hard for so long to lose. Grindelwald is

running scared, and it is only a matter of time before he has

to try to come for us again."

Harry shook his head.

"No, it is only a matter of time before he withdraws his

forces to one place and hopes to crush us as we try to take it

from him," he corrected. "Once the Ukraine falls, we can

sweep back across the continent, but backing him into a

corner will only make him more desperate and dangerous.

The journey back will be harder than what we've faced

here, he will make sure of it."

Charlus nodded his agreement.

"But we will keep fighting."

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"We will keep fighting," Harry assured him.

(Break)

Minerva couldn't be certain of the exact moment when

walking had become what she referred to as her 'pregnancy

waddle.' Regardless, she found that she didn't care for it

much with how difficult it made making her way around

the castle, or getting in and out of bed, or anything else for

that matter.

Her mother and Perenelle would say that she had

blossomed, but Minerva would disagree.

She had ballooned.

When she had reached her third trimester, it was as though

the baby had decided that she needed constant reminders

of its presence, and when it wasn't kicking her, it pushed

against her bladder meaning she spent more time than

she'd like emptying it.

Still, the morning sickness had finally abated, but her

cravings for treacle tart had not.

Not a day went by where Minerva did not indulge in

Harry's choice of dessert, something the house-elves of

Hogwarts were happy to provide.

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When she went home for the weekend, Kora, the elf that

Harry had secured for them, would do the same.

Minerva had been against the idea at first, but with how

large the house was, and how vast the grounds were, the

Kora was an invaluable asset to have around.

"And how are we both today?" Rosalina's voice broke in as

she entered the transfiguration classroom, immediately

placing her hands on Minerva's stomach.

She had held off from telling the rest of the staff for as long

as she could, but she couldn't keep it from them forever,

and as such, the entirety of the castle had known for weeks

now that she was expecting a baby.

Most had taken it in their stride, offered their

congratulations and life had continued.

Rosalina, however, much to Minerva's surprise, had taken

to visiting her here every morning, and escorting her

around the castle whenever she left the classroom.

She doted on her almost as much as her own mother did,

and Minerva saw a side to the Defence Against the Dark

Arts professor that she never would have believed existed.

"Did you never want children?" she had asked curiously

during one of Rosalina's visits.

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"No, I would be a terrible mother," the woman sighed. "I'm far

too self ish."

Minerva didn't believe that for one moment, but she didn't

comment any further and allowed Rosalina to do as she had

been. She enjoyed the woman's company, after all.

"You must have been tempted to kill Harry," Minerva

replied.

Rosalina snorted.

"More times than I can count. The little one will be here

soon enough though."

Minerva nodded.

Soon couldn't come soon enough.

"Shouldn't we be getting you home?" Rosalina asked.

"Aye," Minerva replied tiredly. "I managed to finish the

nursery last night. Would you like to see it?"

Rosalina's eyes widened and she nodded excitedly, the same

way she did whenever anything about the baby was

mentioned.

It was understandable.

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Harry and Rosalina had grown close over the years,

something akin to a sibling relationship having developed

between the two.

Minerva wouldn't consider it a mother/son bond, and

Rosalina would likely curse her if she suggested such.

No, they bickered far too much, but Rosalina had helped

Harry more than most and he cared deeply for her.

"What colour did you choose in the end?"

"I decided to keep it neutral," Minerva answered as

Rosalina helped her to her feet.

Rosalina huffed.

"I don't know why you don't want to know what it is."

Minerva had discussed it with Harry, and they had decided

they'd like to keep it as a surprise.

"Just give me a moment and I'll let you through."

Rosalina nodded her understanding.

She had yet to visit the house but knew that the protections

around it were quite extensive. She'd expect nothing less of

her former apprentice.

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Minerva threw a handful of floo powder into the fire before

stepping into the emerald flames, shuddering as she always

did when the magic washed over her.

She wouldn't pretend to understand what Harry had done,

but she felt safe here.

Drawing her wand, she muttered a few incantations under

her breath before extracting a drop of blood and placing it

in the fire. After only a brief delay, the flames turned red,

and she reached out her hand to pull Rosalina into the

living area that Kora had decorated.

"Merlin, it feels horrible in here," Rosalina commented,

relaxing only when Minerva gestured for the poised

serpents that rose from the flames to stand down.

It took a little time for Rosalina to adjust to the magic, but

she eventually breathed a sigh of relief.

"What would happen if someone tried to attack you?" she

asked curiously.

Minerva shook her head.

"I have no idea," she answered honestly, "but Harry said

they wouldn't even draw their wand before they were dead."

Rosalina grinned approvingly as she looked around the

room appreciatively.

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"I'm still getting used to all this space," Minerva admitted.

"I don't think we'll ever use it all."

"No, but it is nice to have it," Rosalina replied. "Now,

where is the nursery?"

Minerva snorted amusedly at the excitement of the other

woman before leading her towards the staircase through the

entrance hall where Kora was perusing a catalogue and

experimenting with different rugs for the wooden floor.

"Hello, Mistress Minnie," the elf greeted her with a curtsey.

Minerva offered the little creature a smile, Kora's plain

white apron as immaculate as ever, complimenting her

light, pink skin.

"How are you today, Kora?" she asked.

The elf nodded happily.

"Kora is fine," she answered with a beaming smile. "There

is still much work to be done, and even more when little

master or mistress comes along."

The elf was perhaps the most excited about welcoming the

baby, even more so than Minerva and Harry.

"Then I will let you get on," Minerva declared. "Remember

to rest."

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Kora simply nodded before turning her attention back to

the catalogue, and Minerva led Rosalina to the nursery.

The woman gasped as she entered the room.

Minerva had worked hard charming the floating lights and

adding the decorative touches in the form of a mobiles that

hung over the cot and Moses basket, to the mural on the

wall depicting an array of magical creatures that Kora had

helped her with.

"A snake?" Rosalina chuckled as she picked up the stuffed

toy.

Minerva shrugged.

There was a strong chance the babe would be a

parselmouth, so she wanted them to be used to the

creatures from the very beginning.

"It is wonderful," Rosalina declared as she walked around

the room, taking in every detail. "Harry will love this."

"I hope so," Minerva sighed.

He hadn't seen it yet, nor any other part of the house for

that matter since some of the décor had been changed.

There were still many rooms that Minerva had not even

been in again since they'd viewed the house, but she had

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asked Kora to leave the basement.

Minerva had no doubt that Harry had plans for the space,

and she didn't wish to deprive him of them, not unless it

would burn the house down.

That was unfortunately a possibility with him.

"Thank you for showing me this," Rosalina said gratefully

when she'd finished her inspection. "You really will be a

wonderful mother."

Minerva smiled.

She was still not used to the idea but knew she would have

little choice in the coming weeks.

The baby would be here, and as excited as she was to finally

meet the little thing that had been growing within her, she

was equally terrified by the thought.

More than anything, she wished Harry could be here.

She had her mother, Perenelle, and even Rosalina if she

was needed, but it wasn't the same.

Harry should be here, and were it not for the war, he would

be.

Of that, Minerva had no doubt.

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(Break)

It was odd how one became accustomed to scents that

would, under normal circumstances, leave you feeling

nauseous and fighting the urge to vomit, but as Harry

waded through the human waste that came up past his

knees, he found the smell barely registered.

Nothing would ever come close to the smell of rotting

corpses baking in the hot sun, not even gallons of flowing

excrement.

Still, he wouldn't be here if he believed he had other

options to explore.

He had entered the sewer system just outside of the city,

and for hours now Harry had been trudging through the

pipes in search of an opening, his senses alert to every

sound, every scurry of the rats that dwelled here, all in the

hope of finding just one opening.

The city above needed to be taken, and though he could

perhaps do it alone for the most part, he could not do so

without great risk to the men and women that called this

place home.

They were effectively hostages, a safeguard against a fast

and hard strike that would obliterate the magical district of

Kyiv.

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Grindelwald's men were adapting to accommodate Harry's

previous tactics.

No, as frustrating as it was, he could not risk so many lives,

not when he and his men had fought so hard to protect

them.

There had to be another way, and after pressing on for

another hour or so, he found it.

Grindelwald's followers were foolish not to guard it, but

had they even considered such a possibility.

Harry had his doubts.

Peering through the grate, he observed those that passed

him by, most being emaciated men and women who were

shepherded along the streets, hundreds of them who would

be sacrificed without thought if Harry didn't plan

accordingly.

Having seen enough, he turned to retrace his steps through

the pipes, leaving a subtle trail behind so that others might

follow in his footsteps.

Although he wished to be the man to lead them through

this avenue, that would fall to another.

Harry would be needed elsewhere, and though his plan

would not be without risk, it was the best they had, and

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soon enough, the battle for Kyiv would commence.

(Break)

Tom found himself in a melancholic mood as he gazed

across the castle grounds from his vantage point at the top

of the Astronomy Tower. June had arrived more than a

week ago, and with it, the reminder that he would have to

return to the orphanage once more in the coming weeks.

He had considered attempting to speak with the

headmaster once more about this but had decided against

doing so.

No, he would have to return.

He'd even entertained the idea of hiding out in the Room

of Requirement for the duration, but his absence would be

noted, and Dumbledore was watching him far too closely.

Tom wouldn't put it past the man to visit the orphanage

and check on him.

He released a deep breath as he stretched, tired from the

additional work he had been putting into his practice in his

retreat.

"It's only for a few months, Tom," Helena soothed.

The teen nodded, resisting the urge to offer a barbed reply.

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As irksome and naïve as the ghost was, she had assisted

him rather aptly thus far, and there was more that she could

do for him.

Although she was almost a thousand years old by this

point, she maintained the mentality of a spurned child, and

acted as such.

It would not do to give her a reason to hold a grudge

against him, not when she knew too much.

Could he even kill a ghost if needed?

The thought made him frown deeply.

"Are you okay?" the woman asked, the feel of her essence

on his shoulder as she rubbed it causing him to shudder.

Tom smiled, nonetheless.

Despite his impending return to the orphanage, this had

been his best year at Hogwarts yet, and the next may be

even better.

If Tom was fortunate, McGonagall would not be returning

once she birthed the abomination she carried.

His nostrils flared irritably.

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Even a half-wit could deduce that Evans was the father of

the child, a bastard babe that could follow in the footsteps

of its father.

Another parselmouth to contend with.

Tom grit his teeth in an attempt to calm himself.

The babe was irrelevant, but Tom would not pretend that

he hadn't visualised ending it in the womb.

A simple tripping hex as the woman descended one of the

many staircases in the castle would likely be enough, but

Tom had stayed his hand, fought the urge knowing that he

would be discovered.

That would only result in Evans seeking him out, and not

even the defences around the castle would stop him.

Tom remembered the murderous glare of the man the

night he had tried to kill him, and it made the teen shudder

involuntarily before he shook his head.

No, Evans would never be able to kill him.

As good as the world believed the man to be, Tom would

be better, but provoking him prematurely would be foolish.

Dealing with Evans and his offspring would take patience

and planning.

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Tom could wait, and in the meantime, he had other things

to focus on.

"Would you do something for me over the summer?" he

asked Helena, the sadness in his tone enough to elicit a

look of empathy from the ghost.

"Of course, Tom," she replied.

Tom offered her a half-smile of gratitude, something the

woman always fell for.

"You've shown me the incredible room that your mother

created, but I would like to find Salazar's too. It would

bring me closer to my family. Do you have any idea where

it is?"

Helena shook her head.

"I'm sorry, Tom, I don't," she sighed, "but I can try to look

for it," she added, not wanting to disappoint him.

"Thank you," Tom replied, cupping her cheek gently. "You

really are the best thing about this place."

Helena trembled at his touch before Tom left her atop the

tower to return to the dungeons, his thoughts drifting to

just what the Chamber of Secrets might hold.

(Break)

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Petr had returned the day after Harry had left, his efforts to

route Grindelwald's men out of the east of the country

having been a resounding success, and with the ICW forces

so close to Kyiv, they had opted to flee rather than join

their comrades.

The men had celebrated, pleased by the triumph, but the

sober mood washed over them once more when a tired

Harry arrived having completed his scouting trip.

"What did you find?" Charlus asked.

Harry shook his head as he released a deep breath.

"There is a way in," he confirmed, "but it is just as risky as I

thought it would be."

"Is it our only option?"

Harry nodded.

"It is, but there is something else we can do to reduce the

risk of those storming the city."

"Something riskier," Charlus sighed knowingly.

Once more, Harry nodded.

"I will lead that part of the operation, and Petr will lead the

others through the sewers. I have laid a path to be

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followed, but you will get dirty."

Petr snorted.

"What will you be doing?" the Russian asked curiously.

"Flying," Harry muttered unhappily. "I will need around

twenty volunteers to come with me to serve as a distraction

so that you can get into the city."

"Only twenty?" Petr questioned, cutting Charlus off before

he could speak.

"We need enough to keep them occupied, but any more

could be dangerous to us. I need competent fliers, the best

we have."

"That would be me and Arcturus to begin with," Charlus

volunteered.

Harry appeared as though he would disagree, but he could

not argue with Charlus's skill, nor Arcturus's, both of

whom having played for their house teams at Hogwarts for

several years.

"I have two men who played for the Russian Quidditch

team," Petr informed them. "They are excellent fliers."

Harry nodded appreciatively.

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"We will need some volunteers but do make it clear that

this will be very dangerous. None should offer themselves

unless they are confident they can avoid spell fire. We will

be the centre of attention until our men are in the city."

"How long will that take?" Charlus asked.

"It depends how quickly Petr can shove them through the

grate. You'll manage two at a time."

"That could take a while," Petr warned. "I could maybe get

forty or fifty men through per minute."

Harry hummed thoughtfully.

"Around fifteen minutes should do it to have around seven

hundred men through. I don't like it."

"Njet, but what choice do we have?" Petr asked.

Charlus did not like the idea much either.

The idea of having a mounted strike team had been

discussed, but Harry had pointed out just how dangerous

such a thing was. All it took was just one spell, any spell to

unseat someone and the chances of survival were slim.

The Potter lord snorted.

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So dangerous, and yet, this was exactly what they were

going to do.

Either their efforts would prove to be successful, or many

would lose their lives. He hoped for the former but could

not deny that the latter was more likely.

(Break)

"It almost feels like it did when we'd go out to play a

Quidditch final at Hogwarts," Arcturus murmured as he

stood with Harry, Charlus and the rest of the group that

would soon take to the sky.

For two days they had been practicing, with Evans

inspecting the men to ensure they could fly well enough for

what they would be undertaking.

The tension amongst them was palpable, and even

Arcturus could not deny the precariousness of the situation

they would soon be facing.

"Something like that," Charlus snorted. "There'll be more

than a few broken bones now though if we balls this up."

Arcturus nodded his agreement as he took out a photo of

himself and Melania on their wedding day from within his

robes.

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Dorea had taken it whilst they'd shared their first dance,

neither paying attention to the camera as they were lost in

one another's eyes.

It was his favourite photo, and even though the wedding

was not so long ago, the edges were rather dog-eared from

where he had handled and gazed at it so much.

"You'll see her again," Charlus broke into his thoughts.

"I know," Arcturus replied, replacing the photo, and patting

his pocket before turning his attention to the broom he

held. "How did Evans get these?"

The Nimbus range had become the most popular brooms

over the past couple of years for Quidditch teams and

flying enthusiasts across the continent.

For some models, there was a waiting list of months.

Harry was popular, but fame only got you so far in life.

Even Arcturus had been unable to secure a broom any

faster and he was the head of the most prominent family in

Britain.

"Harry owns forty percent of the business," Charlus huffed

amusedly.

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"Bloody hell," Arcturus grumbled. "Everything he touches

turns to gold."

"It was his gold that got the first brooms produced,"

Charlus explained.

Arcturus could only shake his head.

Perhaps he needed to discuss the art of investment with the

man.

"Alright, get ready," Harry's voice commanded, evidently

having received the signal they were waiting for from Petr.

"Remember, keep moving and don't be predictable with

your flying. If you need to pull out, get as far away from the

city as you can. Any questions?"

"If we live, can we keep the broom?" one of the Russians

asked.

Some of the men laughed nervously.

"They are yours," Harry replied with a shrug.

"Really?" the man asked, surprised by the answer.

"I don't know what I'd do with twenty brooms," Harry

pointed out.

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The men whispered amongst themselves excitedly, though

the sombre mood returned as Harry called them to

attention once more.

"Let's go."

They kicked off from the ground into the sky, hoping that

striking under the cover of darkness would offer them a

little more protection than they would have during a

daytime raid.

Being outside of the city, they couldn't see much, but their

vision would improve vastly once they were above, and as

they came upon the Ukrainian capital, Arcturus sought out

his first target.

For their own benefit, and to assist their own men that

would be storming Kyiv from below, they would be

focusing their spell fire on those on higher ground, and

atop buildings to nullify the threat they posed.

Arcturus's first victim was swept from his vantage point

with a banishing charm, being hurled over the edge of the

rooftop he was occupying, the sudden and unexpected

attack giving the man no time to defend himself.

Another fell in a similar manner before Grindelwald's

forces had organised themselves into defensive formations

across the city and began returning fire.

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As dangerous as it was to be on a broom in a combat

situation, it was equally frustrating for the defenders who

would were attempting to hit moving targets, but it was

only a matter of time before their spell work became more

accurate, or they simply got lucky.

If Gilbert and Yaxley were correct, the force below

numbered more than a thousand, and avoiding so many

rebuttals for a prolonged period would be all but

impossible.

Arcturus swerved to avoid a sickly blue curse he almost

flew into the path of, and hastily erected a shield to block

another, gripping the handle of the broom tightly as it

knocked him off balance.

Even more were sent in his direction, dozens of spells of

various colours that he managed to evade by using the

acceleration of the broom.

He passed several of his own men as he flew above Kyiv,

they too having been quickly put on the defensive, their

focus solely on not being shot down, and offering little in

the way of offense.

Not that they could if they wanted to.

They had drawn the attention of what could only be the

majority of Grindelwald's forces who were seemingly

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determined to put an end to the threat they posed.

Spell after spell continued to climb towards the mounted

men, and it became increasingly difficult to dart between

the salvos.

It wasn't long before Arcturus spotted the first of their

small group fall victim to a barrage of spells, the end of his

broom ablaze as he plummeted towards the ground with a

scream that was cut off suddenly on impact.

He had fallen hundreds of feet, and from such a height,

there was not a chance he had survived, something

Arcturus tried to ignore as he continued with his own

efforts, wondering just how long they had been up here.

For all he knew, an hour could have past already, or it may

have only been a few minutes.

He shook his head once more as he continued with his

efforts to not be clipped by an errant spell, hoping that the

ground forces would begin their assault before none

remained in the sky.

(Break)

With those flying overhead serving as a distraction, Reg

was doing all he could to hurry the men through the grate

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from the sewer so the attack from the ground could begin

as quickly as possible.

Taking a moment to appreciate the aerial acrobatics, he

shook his head.

He wanted nothing more than to be up there with Harry,

Charlus, and Arcturus, but Reg was not a seasoned flyer. In

truth, his efforts on a broom had been subpar at best

throughout his life, so he had opted to help ready the

troops here, much to the appreciation of Petr who had

taken command.

"Come on, get moving!" Reg whispered harshly, coaxing

the men into position.

It had been almost ten minutes of tension. Three of the

twenty fliers had been brought down, and from here, Reg

couldn't tell who.

"How long?" he asked Petr.

"Five minutes," was the sharp reply he received, the

Russian just as restless as him.

Reg nodded stiffly, helping more men out of the grate.

"What did you find, Gil?" he asked as the man returned

from a lastminute scout, breathless from having evidently

run through the streets of Kyiv.

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Gilbert held up a hand and took a moment to compose

himself.

"Most of Grindelwald's men are near the centre," he

wheezed. "I've found a way to get behind them. If that lot

up there keep this up, they'll never see us until the first

spells hit them," he finished excitedly.

"Bloody hell, I could kiss you sometimes. I won't because

Merlin only knows where you have been."

"Piss off, Yaxley," Gilbert huffed.

Reg grinned as he slapped the other man on the back.

"Well, since you know the way, guess who's going to be at

the front?"

Gilbert groaned.

"Oh, come on, you don't think I'd let you do it alone, do

you?"

"You're a real friend, Reg," Gilbert grumbled sarcastically.

"What would I do without you?"

"That's the spirit," Reg replied with a grin.

"Yaxley, we're ready," Petr declared as the last of the men

left the sewers.

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Any amusement Reg felt evaporated immediately as he

took a deep breath.

"Gilbert knows how we can get behind them. We'll lead

the way."

"I will come too," Petr declared without hesitation. "Let's

go."

(Break)

Harry could count on one hand how many times in his life

he had been more relieved than he was when the spell fire

below began, signalling that Petr had arrived with the other

men.

Those in the sky still had to avoid the efforts of some

intent on bringing them down, but most quickly shifted

their focus to the fight closer to hand, the more immediate

threat to them.

"REGROUP!" Harry called, signalling for his men to

follow.

After striking a man down with a throttling curse, he

landed on a nearby roof, and what remained of his group

followed suit.

In all, they had lost seven men, a sacrifice that Harry

wished could have been avoided, but was all but inevitable

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if they wished to take the city.

More would be lost to them until the fighting stopped,

something that Harry was keen to happen sooner rather

than later.

"Brooms away, let's get down there," he instructed.

The rest of the group did not want platitudes, or heartfelt

words of sorrow for the loss of their companions.

The time for that would come later. Now was the time to

continue fighting.

When they reached ground level, the group was greeted by

the familiar sight of streets littered with bodies, the dead

and the dying, flashes of spell fire, and screaming.

All had become almost daily occurrences for them, and

though each would haunt them in their own way, they had

become accustomed to war, and every last bit of misery it

brought with it.

Harry quickly located where the bulk of the fighting was

taking place, and without any need for prompting, his men

threw themselves into the fray, with Harry joining Charlus

and Arcturus, the three of them carving a path through

Grindelwald's followers.

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"DIE SCHLANGE!" one shouted, only to collapse to the

ground, grasping at his throat as blood spilled through his

fingers from Harry's severing curse.

His warning, however, was loud enough to draw the

attention of many to Harry, and he quickly found himself

being bombarded by the efforts of several men.

With Charlus and Arcturus at his side, nothing came close

to hitting any of them, and with their combined efforts, the

attackers were felled quickly, adding to the dead strewn

across the streets.

"Isn't that Gilbert and Reg?" Charlus asked, pointing

towards an alleyway where the two men had been pinned

down by a significant force.

"Help them," Harry instructed, his attention focused on

the last of the larger groups that remained, these men

doing all they could to hold off the attack that Petr was

leading.

With a nod, Charlus and Arcturus sprinted towards where

Yaxley and Gilbert were attempting to defend themselves,

and Harry twirled his wand between his fingers.

This exchange would not be like the last, but without the

need to worry about having a man either side of him, it

opened up his options.

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He redirected a cutting curse sent his way back towards his

assailant who was not as quick on the uptake.

The spell bit into his chest and sent him tumbling

backwards, his wound bleeding freely.

Not wanting to give any other an opportunity to strike,

Harry went on the offensive, his wand a blur as he

indiscriminately cast spells at those not garbed in the

uniform of the ICW.

As a fifteen-year-old being pursued by Death Eaters

through the bowels of the Ministry, he had been terrified

when he'd had to fight for his life, but now, Harry was in

his element.

The replies came thick and fast, and yet, he barely needed

to acknowledge them to know what was coming and where.

None of these men were Grindelwald nor Voldemort, each

of them lacking the brilliance and power of either of the

men. Individually, they were no threat to Harry, and even

working cohesively to bring him down, their efforts paled

in comparison to either of his foes.

Still, it did not deter any of the Grindelwald's followers

from trying, the lure of the glory of killing Harry too

strong to ignore.

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Harry, however, would not die so easily, something many

learned to their detriment.

Every man that engaged him was dispatched of, some

falling victim to their own spells and others from Harry's

creation.

Many screamed, and those that died slowly pleaded for

mercy, as others called for their mothers as though they

were children who had merely scraped a knee.

They eventually fell silent, their begging replaced by new

victims.

Harry breathed heavily as he took in the devastation

around him, the initial burst of adrenaline having ebbed

away.

The fighting that had been raging only moments ago had

all but ceased, the last of Grindelwald's men recognising

the futility of the situation they found themselves in.

The last few dozen dropped their wands and Harry

breathed a sigh of relief as he spotted Charlus, Arcturus,

and Yaxley supporting a limping Gilbert towards him.

"What happened?" he asked.

"My arse," Gilbert groaned, eliciting a bout of laughter

from the other three.

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"He took a cutting curse for me," Reg explained. "You're a

bloody hero, Gil."

"With his arse?" Harry snorted.

Gilbert moaned in pain, and Harry chanced a glance at his

wound, wincing as he did so.

From what he could see, the man was now missing half of

his left buttock.

"Get him to a healer," he instructed.

"Come on, Gil," Reg sighed. "If you're a good boy, I'll even

convince Petr to let you have some vodka."

"Up yours, Reg," Gilbert whimpered as Arcturus helped

them towards where the healers were now setting up a

medical station a short distance away.

Harry shook his head.

Gilbert would be okay in a few days, though his backside

would certainly never be the same.

It would be quite the story to tell when he returned home.

"We did it," Charlus sighed tiredly.

Harry nodded, allowing the first smile to crest his lips for

weeks to form.

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It had taken months of fighting, clawing for every mile

gained of land here, but they had indeed done it.

The Ukraine had finally been liberated, and though he was

pleased, the real work would begin now.

"What next?" Charlus asked.

"We carry on," Harry answered simply, "but not until you

have taken some leave along with Gilbert and Reg. You've

all more than earned it. Go and see your mum, Charlus, it's

been almost a year."

Charlus swallowed deeply as he nodded.

"I will," he promised.

"And check on Minerva for me if you have time. It would

mean a lot to me if you could."

"You didn't even need to ask," Charlus chuckled, squeezing

his shoulder comfortingly. "I'll break the news to the

others. It might stop Gilbert whinging for a while."

Harry watched Charlus's retreating form as he removed the

coin he'd been using to communicate with Eleanor.

We need to meet. I'm in Berlin. E

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Comments (14)

Thanks for another highly enjoyable and fantastic chapter

Brilliant as always

Petr was more than capable of overseeing things, and Kyiv

was in no danger of being attacked, not with the ICW

forces stretched across the entirety of the country.

Eleanor's message served to remind Harry that although

they'd achieved a great victory, and taken a significant step

to eradicating Grindelwald's following, there was still much

to do, more battles to fight, and more victories to be had

before the war would be concluded.

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AvidReader2425 2 weeks ago · 0 Likes

Elaine Rose 2 months ago · 0 Likes

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Statute of secrecy is not even an afterthought in this story

Another excellent chapter. I enjoyed the Ukraine chapters

but I'm glad they didn't bog down the story.

A bit cathartic to have the Ukraine part of the story at this

time. Good drama. Thanks again for crafting and

continuing.

I am just going with the flow at this point.

Wait every week eagerly to read the next story. This is a top

notch story compared to others. Makes my week and keeps

me eagerly waiting. Hoping you would release more than 2

chapters a week.

Guest 2 months ago · 0 Likes

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Please write the next chapter. Thank you very much. I

really appreciated it and liked it a lot. I am sorry if I am

being rude or annoying you with my reviews; I don't mean

to be rude or annoy you with my review; I just really like

your story a lot.

The chapters have been written already, mostly. The

author's just posting them twice per week. And if you truly

cared for being rude or annoying, or writing an actual

review in the first place, you wouldn't keep posting this on

every chapter!

I'm on the edge of my seat

Rosalinw to be god mother pleasee

Justin 3 months ago · 0 Likes

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When the Roses Bloom Again - The Gauntlet

When the Roses Bloom Again - Layer

Upon Layer

Another great chapter. I am a little surprised at how many

Ukrainians are willing to work with the ICW/Russian

troops after everything Russia pulled in 1932-33. I guess

that desperate times really do call for desperate measures.

I'll probably never truly understand the complexities of

WW2 alliances.

Can't help but wonder who the godparents will be.

Looking forward to the next one.

Great chapter. I absolutely love this story. Have been

following it since its beginning

Mike 3 months ago · 0 Likes

Sober 3 months ago · 0 Likes

Shakthi S 3 months ago · 0 Likes

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