Aug 7

When the

Roses Bloom

Again - Allied

Forces February 1942

He stared longingly at the photo of Minerva and Rosa; the

edges now worn from where he handled it so often. In the

six months that had passed since Bulgaria had been taken,

he had been home only once.

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That visit had been shortly before Christmas, and much

shorter than Harry had hoped.

The war was at a pivotal juncture and kept him posted on

the continent, and though seemingly little had transpired in

the intervening months, Harry's place was here, with the

men that continued to fight so boldly.

He wasn't alone in his lack of time away from the front.

Charlus had returned after a two-week spell of recovery and

had remained with Harry since. Both Gilbert and Yaxley

had not even been granted that.

Harry had granted Arcturus a month of leave when his son

had been born, and again when the boy fell ill when he was

barely a few months old. Oddly, his wife had already fallen

pregnant again with their second child.

Orion, named in a bid to redeem Arcturus's father when he

would one day become the Lord Black, had recovered from

his dragon pox for the most part, but that didn't stop

Arcturus from worrying.

Still, the boy had survived the worst of it.

Charlus and Dorea were planning to marry as soon as they

could after Selwyn's unsuccessful ploy.

Hide nor hair had been seen of the man since.

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His family reputation was in tatters, so it was best he kept a

low profile for some time.

Harry shook his head as he placed the photo within his

robes, vowing to return home in the coming days.

Grindelwald was taking a strictly defensive stance for the

time being, his only offense being the occasional prod at the

ICW defences, but nothing more.

Evidently, he was still licking his wounds from the

resounding defeat in Bulgaria and the loss of Gaulitier and

Weber.

The thought of the two of them being dead brought a small

smile to Harry's lips.

The world was better off without them.

Regardless of what Grindelwald's intentions were, Harry

had decided he would be taking some leave, as would

Gilbert and Yaxley.

They needed only to wait for the arrival of their newest

allies, the thought of which removed Harry's expression of

amusement.

Flashback

November 1941

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Bulgaria had been pillaged, the men, women, and children here

neglected at best. Many had died during Grindelwald's

occupation, and some even left to starve.

It was the worst that Harry had seen, and even with as many

people as he could spare to help right the wrongs Grindelwald

and his men had inflicted upon the natives, it had taken weeks to

see the fruits of their labour.

Houses had needed to be rebuilt, and almost every person Harry

had come across had needed healing in some form.

The malnourished were fed, wounds treated, and the sick healed

as best as he and his men could manage.

Still, some succumbed to the ill-treatment they had endured, the

road to recovery not one they would travel.

Funeral after funeral had been held, and yet, life had to continue

for the rest.

The past two months had been nothing short of exhausting.

"A letter for you, Harry," Charlus's voice broke into his thoughts.

Harry frowned at the seal of the ICW that adorned the missive.

He'd heard nothing from Abreo for months, but it seemed that

silence had come to an end.

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Breaking the seal, his frown only deepened as he read.

Dear Commander-in-Chief Evans,

Your presence is required at the ICW headquarters for a

gathering.

We await your immediate arrival,

Pierre Abreo

Supreme Mugwump of the International Confederation of

Warlocks

With a sigh, Harry folded the envelope and placed it in his

pocket.

"Can you tell Petr that I have been called in?" he requested.

Charlus nodded.

"I'll do it now."

With that, the Lord Potter took his leave and Harry activated his

portkey, appearing in the foyer of the ICW headquarters only a

moment later.

"Commander Evans," the receptionist greeted him, her eyes wide

as she stared unashamedly. "They are expecting you."

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Harry merely nodded as the woman led him towards the chamber

where the meetings were held.

When he entered, it was to f ind the seats f illed to capacity.

Even Minister Sokolov was here.

"Commander Evans," Abreo greeted him, the room falling silent

as some of the representatives stood to get a better look at him.

It reminded Harry of when his name had been called to be sorted

during his f irst year, something he didn't care for.

"You requested my presence?" he asked as he stepped froward.

"I did indeed," Abreo clarif ied, "and I thank you for arriving

promptly. Please, take a seat."

Harry's gaze shifted around the room once more before doing as

he was bid, taking the indicated chair in the centre of the room.

"I don't suppose you've called me here for a casual chat," he

deduced.

Abreo shook his head.

"No, I would only bring you here as a matter of the utmost

importance," he assured Harry. "There has been a recent

development, one that you must be informed of."

Abreo looked distinctly uncomfortable, but excited too.

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"A recent development?" Harry asked cautiously.

Abreo released a deep breath.

"It seems as though we have another ally we can call upon," he

announced. "Allow me to introduce our guest who will explain

better than I can."

He gestured for a man seated next to him to take his place at the

podium.

Harry did not recognise him, but he wore navy blue robes, and

his brown hair was swept to one side, however, it was the man's

bright smile that Harry was drawn to.

It reminded him of Gilderoy Lockhart, and Harry took an

immediate disliking to the stranger.

"Commander Evans?" he asked in an American accent.

"Commander-in-Chief," Harry corrected.

The American flinched at the cold tone he received, his smirk

faltering slightly.

"Commander-in-Chief," he corrected, his smile plastered f irmly

across his face once more. "It is a privilege to meet you. Even

across the pond, your name is known. As a country, we have been

watching the conflict here with interest."

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"Watching," Harry snorted. "Whilst we have been your source of

interest, good people are dying…"

"Something we wish to change," the American cut in. "My name

is John Westbrook. You might know me as the President of the

Magical Congress of the United States of America."

Harry shook his head.

"I've never heard of you," he returned honestly, and with a shrug.

Westbrook grimaced.

"Well, I have only been in off ice for a year now," he explained. "I

imagine you have been quite busy with your own affairs."

Harry merely nodded in response, ignoring the look of amusement

Abreo wore.

The Frenchman was quite used to Harry's blunt demeanour by

now and took it in his stride.

"I am here to inform you that the United States of America will

be joining you to help put an end to Gellert Grindelwald,"

Westbrook declared.

It was as though the man expected Harry to fall to his knees and

thank him profusely, but he would get no such response.

Instead, Harry frowned.

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"Why?" he asked.

"Well, we would not have it said that we didn't play our part,"

Westbrook laughed, still smiling though he seemed confused by the

lack of elation his words elicited from Harry.

Harry snorted once more as he shook his head.

"We needed your help two years ago," he pointed out. "No," he

corrected, "we needed your help when Grindelwald escaped your

custody and you just seemed to forget all about him."

Westbrook appeared uneasy by the implied negligence, but ever

seemingly the politician, his smile widened.

"The past is the past, Commander-in-Chief," he said

dismissively. "We are here now. I have three thousand men and

women who are being trained as we speak. They will arrive here

within the next few months."

His tone took on an insistent edge and Harry narrowed his eyes

at Westbrook.

"Do they have any battle experience?" he questioned.

The American didn't appear to appreciate the query.

"They will be ready when the time comes."

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"That's not what I asked," Harry huffed. "This isn't one of your

political games. People are dying here, so before you send your

own men and women, you had better realise that. I won't babysit

people who are unprepared for what is happening, and I will not

be held responsible for what happens to them."

"Our forces will have their own Commander-in-Chief,"

Westbrook retorted.

"And will they function as a standalone group, or will they fall

under the command of Evans here?" Minister Sokolov

interjected.

"We will work with you," Westbrook answered.

Harry cursed under his breath.

As much as he appreciated an influx of f ighting men, he would

rather do without the stress they could bring under the command

of another.

Sokolov cursed loudly in his native tongue.

"But they will still act independently," he pointed out. "Even my

own men are under the command of Evans. What is to stop yours

from doing something that is not in the interest of our

campaign?"

Westbrook's smile fell as he looked upon the Russian leader with

nothing short of contempt.

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Evidently, there was no love lost between the two nations.

"Our interest is to put an end to Grindelwald," he answered

diplomatically. "I would like us to work together on this."

"Something we are willing to do," Abreo cut in before either

Harry or Sokolov could reply. "You must understand, Mr

President, the rest of the world has turned a blind eye to what is

happening here. We did not expect any allies to come to us so

readily."

Westbrook smiled.

"The United States of America is your friend," he said

reassuringly. "We hope that us assisting you now will be the

beginning of a prosperous and mutually beneficial relationship in

the future."

Once more, the American did not seemingly receive the response

he expected so turned his attention to Abreo.

"I will communicate with you directly, Supreme Mugwump," he

informed his counterpart. "I will leave it to you to keep your men

informed. Gentlemen," he added with a bow, addressing the rest

of the chamber before activating a portkey and vanishing.

Abreo shot Harry an apologetic look.

"He came to me quite suddenly," he explained. "They will be a

powerful ally."

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"And a massive pain in the arse," Harry grumbled. "They have

no f ighting experience, they do not know these lands, and they

have a poor relationship with the one nation that came to our

aide when it was needed most."

"I have every faith that you will make it work, Harry," Abreo

replied simply.

End Flashback

The reaction to the Americans entering the war had been

mixed at best amongst the men under Harry's command.

Some were under the impression there would be less

fighting for them, others understood that the motivation of

the President was not selfless, and they did not appreciate

the political machinations.

In the few months that he had known, he had become

rather apathetic towards it.

If the Americans wanted to risk their lives, who was he to

stop them?

However, the moment they endangered the lives of his own

men, his reaction would not be so benign.

"What the fuck are they doing?" he grumbled as he heard

the sounds of a marching band approaching.

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Exiting the room he had billeted for himself in Ohrid, on

the western border of Bulgaria, he entered the streets to find

a parade of men marching through, an array of instruments

playing an obnoxiously loud piece to announce their arrival.

With a wave of his wand, Harry silenced them, bringing the

column to an abrupt, confused halt.

"What the bloody hell is with all that noise?" he demanded

to know.

"No need for the hostility, friend," a large man placated,

approaching Harry from the head of the column. "Music is

the spice of life."

He accentuated his point by spitting a glob of brown sludge

on the ground.

Evidently, the Americans had arrived.

They were dressed very similarly to the ICW forces, their

uniform a slightly brighter shade of green, but the flags that

many carried that also adorned the sleeves of their robes

were unmissable.

"Not here it isn't," Harry muttered, eliciting murmurs of

agreement from his own gathering men.

"Ken Adams," the man introduced himself, offering his

hand and ignoring the rebuke. "I'm in command of the fine

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ladies and gentlemen you see before you."

"Harry Evans."

He accepted the proffered limb, ignoring the whispers of the

Americans who tried to get a closer look at him.

"You're younger than I thought you'd be," Adams mused

aloud. "Anyway, it looks like we'll be working together to

kick Grindelwald's ass."

"If you think you can manage it," Yaxley snorted.

Adams looked towards him challengingly and laughed.

"We'll have this war wrapped up in a few weeks," he

declared. "You boys will be home before you know it."

Harry raised an eyebrow at the man, predicting quite the

reality check for him in the coming days.

"Well, if you think it will be so easy, the enemy are only

camped out a few miles that way," Gilbert informed him,

jerking his thumb in the general direction of Grindelwald's

forces. "I'm sure they'll give you a warm welcome."

"We might just pay them a visit," Adams replied.

Harry shook his head.

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"I wouldn't be too keen to meet them," he broke in, "but you

can do as you please. My only rules are that you do not

endanger my men, and you leave the natives be. I will not

repeat that to you."

"You worry about your men, and I'll worry about mine,"

Adams replied, evidently not having expected such a cold

greeting.

"That works for me," Harry shrugged, "but for the time

being, you will be working with my second in command.

This is Petr Sokolov, he is the commander of the Russian

forces, and the son of the Russian Minister of Magic. In my

absence, he carries the same authority as I do. I'm sure he

will be pleased to help settle you in."

Petr looked as though he couldn't think of anything worse,

and the expression that Adams wore whilst he looked at the

Russian was no less eager.

"How long will you be absent?" Adams asked.

"A week, maybe," Harry answered with a shrug. "I'm going

home to see my daughter. I will leave you in Petr's capable

hands. Oh, and I will not appreciate being called back here

because someone had the stupid idea of starting a fight with

the enemy. If we are going to work together, we need to plan

together."

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Adams opened his mouth to speak but Harry cut him off.

"I would get any ideas out of your head about acting

independently," he urged. "The enemy will kill you

indiscriminately. You've not faced them yet and have no idea

what it is you're in for. I would use this time to settle your

people in and listen to what my men can tell you of what we

have faced."

Adams frowned but nodded.

"I will take your advice into consideration," he replied.

Harry didn't believe he would, but the man would have to

learn from his own mistakes.

As far as he was concerned, he'd given fair warning, and it

was now time for him to see Minerva and his daughter,

something he had been deprived of these past six months.

"Get a message to me if you need to," he murmured to Petr

as he passed him.

The Russian nodded and Harry headed back towards his

room, hoping that his time with his family would not be cut

short.

(Break)

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Tom was having his best year at Hogwarts. With

McGonagall having taken a sabbatical, it was one less

person to pry into his affairs, and her absence also meant

that Dumbledore was busier than usual.

It was the freest that Tom had been in the castle, and he had

taken full advantage of it, though his last visit to the

restricted section of the library had certainly irked him.

Someone had taken it upon themselves to remove several

books, including the one he had wished to revisit.

Not that it mattered.

The Room of Requirement had provided much of what he

needed to know.

He would require more information, but that was something

he was already working on.

No, whilst he had unimpeded access to the room, Tom

focused on perfecting his use of magic and focus on his

other magical arts he had been developing.

It wasn't as though he needed to practice for his OWLs.

He would pass them without issue.

Tom could pass his NEWTs now if they were to be

administered to him.

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The removal of certain tomes from the library was

something easily remedied, but the insult of being

overlooked as a prefect was not so.

Tom had no doubt that he was the best performing student

in his year, and likely the entire school, so why had he been

snubbed?

It was a moot question.

He had no doubt Slughorn would have put his name

forward. The man had said as such before the previous

summer, but final approval fell to the headmaster and his

deputy.

As hard as Slughorn would have fought for him to be given

the position, Dumbledore would have done equally to

ensure he wasn't given it.

It was an affront.

Still, the oversight had allowed him even more freedom

within the castle.

Without the need of patrolling and tending to the rather

dull duties of a prefect, Tom could focus more time on his

own ventures.

He'd even written a list for himself to achieve this year:

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- Learn more about Horcruxes (Slughorn)

- Learn more about Legilimency

- Learn more about his family

- Meet Hepzibah Smith

He had hoped the latter would have occurred during the

summer, but Mrs Smith had not been in touch with Mr

Burke to arrange a meeting.

However, he had been invited back by the owner of the shop

to complete his auditing of the stockroom during the

approaching summer, so Tom was confident there was a

chance he would meet the woman then.

For now, he would focus on the other items on his list.

"Tom?"

He shuddered at the icy touch of Helena, the sensation

something he would never get used to.

Morphing his expression of irritation at being disturbed into

one of pleasant surprise, he turned to greet the ghost.

"Helena," he whispered enthusiastically. "You've never

looked for me inside the castle before."

The woman beamed, nodding shyly.

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"I have found something I think you will want to see," she

replied pointedly.

"Really? What is it?"

She beckoned for him to follow, and Tom did his best to

ignore the jolt of excitement he felt.

The ghost had spent months searching for only one thing

for him, and it seemed that she may have been successful.

Not that Tom would get his hopes up too much,

Twice already Helena had spoken of things she had found

that may be the entrance to the hidden chamber of his

ancestor, and both had proven to be nothing but secret

passages that led to different parts of the castle.

They were useful, and Tom had put them to use, but they

were not what he was seeking.

"I can't go in there," he huffed as he was led to a girl's

bathroom on the second floor.

"No one is inside," Helena assured him.

Tom muttered under his breath as he sent a cursory glance

around the corridor to make sure no one was nearby.

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With a reluctant nod, he entered, the ghost following him

closely.

"Over here," she urged.

Tom frowned as he approached the column of sinks,

narrowing his eyes as Helena gestured to one of the taps.

Carved into the bronze was a small serpent, so small that it

would be missed by any not looking for it.

"This is it," he whispered.

Tom simply knew that he had found it, that this was the

entrance to the Chamber of Secrets.

He immediately felt a connection to the place, almost akin

to a light scratching at the back of his mind, beckoning him

to enter.

But how?

Sighing disappointedly, he knew he would have to return to

investigate further, to find his way in.

"I am in your debt," he said to the ghost, offering her a bow.

"If there is anything I can do for you, I will."

Helena smiled.

"Do you believe this is it?"

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Tom nodded, a sincere smile cresting his lips.

"I have no doubt. Now I just need to work out how to open

it," he explained.

"You will do it, Tom," Helena said encouragingly.

"I will," he replied, "but for now, we must leave. It would not

look good if we were found here and drew unwanted

attention to this place."

Helena nodded her agreement.

"And remember," Tom continued. "No one must know

about this."

"I will not tell a soul," Helena vowed, eliciting another smile

from the teen.

He truly had the ghost where he wanted her.

(Break)

There was one place Derek wanted to spend his time on

leave and it wasn't back in Britain where only temptation to

return to his life of crime awaited.

No, he did not wish to spend any more days in the company

of the dementors or looking over his shoulder for the aurors

to arrest him.

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He was tired of that life, and though he worried what he

would do when the war was over, he wouldn't worry about

that for now, not when he had a week away from the

fighting and the newly arrived Americans who had no idea

what they were in for.

"DEWICK!"

The sight of Iulia sprinting towards him from the house as

he opened the gate to the garden filled Derek with a warmth

he'd never experienced before, and he crouched down

without hesitation to pick the girl up.

No one had ever greeted him so enthusiastically as though

he truly meant something to them.

It was an overwhelming experience, and he gave a watery

chuckle as Iulia babbled at him in her native tongue,

something Derek had yet to get a grasp on.

The girl had really come out of her shell since he had met

her so many months ago now.

She no longer carried the air of sadness she once had, and

her smile had come to mean so much to the man.

"You know he doesn't understand you," Sorina laughed as she

stood in the doorway to the house, a smirk of amusement

tugging at her lips.

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Iulia pouted and Derek lifted her up to sit on his shoulders,

eliciting a giggle from the girl.

Sorina greeted him with a kiss on the cheek, the smile she

graced him with one of fondness.

"How long until you go back?" she asked.

"I have a week," Derek replied.

Sorina nodded.

"Do you have anywhere else you need to be?"

Derek shook his head.

"No. I was hoping you wouldn't mind tolerating my

company for a while."

Sorina's expression softened considerably as she released a

deep breath.

"You will always be welcome here," she sighed as she

wrapped her arms around him.

Derek melted into her embrace, trying, and failing miserably

to remember a time in his life that he had felt so wanted and

happy.

(Break)

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The death of Hans and Weber had resulted in more

ramifications than Gellert could ever have anticipated.

Those that remained who had been loyal to the German had

left, no longer willing to serve his cause without the man

they followed.

It was quite the blow to lose almost five hundred men, but a

soft one in comparison to losing Weber.

Gellert was all but blind to what his enemies were doing,

and without information reaching him from around the

globe via his former sleuth, he hadn't learned of the

Americans allying themselves with the ICW forces until it

had been announced in the media.

The day he had feared had come to pass.

Gellert no longer held a numbers advantage when it came to

warfare.

However, he had adjusted accordingly, and the defences he

had erected in and around his territories were strong enough

to repel all but a full-frontal assault.

Still, he could not ignore the shift in position from when the

war had begun.

It had been the men of the ICW on the defensive, but

through his own efforts to dislodge them from their

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positions on the French border, Gellert now found himself

inadvertently in such an unfavourable situation.

It should never have come to this.

The ICW forces should have been crushed months ago, but

they had proven their resilience.

Under the command of Harry Evans, they had thrived,

overcome everything that Gellert had thrown at them, and

now, his vision was in more jeopardy than ever before.

With the influx of American troops, defeat was much more

likely, unless he played his hand very carefully.

He still had a firm hold on Germany, France, and Spain. A

few, other less important strategic positions, were still within

his grasp, but those three were his most valuable holdings,

and where he would break the impending ICW offensive.

They and the Americans would crash against his defences,

and they would die in droves.

Gellert accepted that he may not win the war, but he would

never concede defeat, never give up on seeing his vision

brought to life, so long as there was air in his lungs, and

blood flowed through his veins, his fight would continue.

(Break)

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The Americans had arrived less than forty-eight hours ago,

and already they causing quite the stir. The tension between

Petr and Ken Adams was palpable, and though Reg found it

amusing for the most part, it was quickly devolving into

something quite ugly.

Twice the two men had to be separated before they had

become embroiled in a physical fight, and it was only a

matter of time before a third incident occurred.

Evidently, the Americans did not like being questioned as to

why it had taken them so long to join the fight, and why

now when the men of the ICW were so close to victory.

Their added numbers would be a boon, but there was

resentment, and that wouldn't vanish overnight, not with

how cocky and arrogant most of them were, nor how

insulting of the ICW efforts some had been.

Reg released a deep breath as he approached the canteen,

pausing as a large column of Americans passed him, their

features alight with excitement.

"What is going on?" he questioned a woman who was

helping herself to bowl of stew.

She snorted as she shook her head.

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"Ken is going to show the Russian that he isn't a coward,"

she huffed.

The declaration didn't fill Reg with confidence.

"Fucking idiot," he grumbled. "He has no idea what he is in

for."

"No," the woman agreed, "but Ken is pig-headed. We tried

to talk him out of it, but he won't listen."

Reg deflated as he accepted the bowl of stew the woman

offered him.

"What's he going to do?" he asked.

"Something stupid," the woman huffed irritably.

She was rather tall, almost of a height with Reg with

chestnut hair and light grey eyes. Even under the loose robes

she wore, it was impossible to miss her slender figure.

"You're an auror," he blurted.

The woman raised an eyebrow at him.

"Am I?" she asked. "How would you know that?"

"I've been around enough of them to know," he replied.

"The scar is also similar to mine," he added, indicating the

one that marred the left side of his face.

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She carried herself similarly to how Gabriel had, and though

her veritable mane concealed most of it, her scar too was

unmistakably from a cutting curse.

An inch or so of it protruded from her hairline.

The woman attempted to conceal it within her tresses and

Reg shook his head as he took her gently by the wrist.

"You should never hide them," he murmured.

"It's ugly."

"Thanks," Reg replied dryly, a smirk tugging at his lips as he

pointed to his own.

Although much of it was hidden by his beard, it was still

visible, and the woman's eyes widened when she noticed it.

"No, I didn't mean…"

She trailed off weakly and Reg laughed, holding up a hand

to calm the woman.

"It's fine," he assured her. "I'm not fond of mine, but I don't

pay attention to it anymore. There are many more important

things in life than worrying about a mark on your face.

You'll probably learn that quickly here."

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The woman grimaced as the sounds of fighting sounded in

the distance, and Reg cursed under his breath.

"Where are you going?" the woman asked with a frown as he

released a deep breath and placed his bowl of stew on the

counter of the canteen.

"Probably to save your stupid leader's arse," he snorted

humourlessly, "well, for now. When Harry finds out what

he's done, no one will be able to help him."

"I'll come too," the woman declared, placing her own bowl

down and following him.

Reg shrugged as he exited the canteen and drew his wand.

"My name is Nancy by the way," the woman introduced

herself.

Reg nodded, not breaking his stride as he headed towards

the flashes of spell fire in the distance.

"Well, Nancy, if we make it through this, my name is Reg."

The woman smiled brightly, drawing her own wand as she

fell into step with him.

(Break)

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It was a frustrated Tom Riddle, his usually kempt hair in

disarray, and his sleeves rolled up that glared at the sink

adorned with the engraving of the serpent, his patience at an

end.

For the past few days, he had been coming here in the early

hours of the morning, determined to open the chamber that

once belonged to his ancestor.

Unavoidably, his thoughts were filled with what treasures he

may find within. Be they gold or knowledge, it mattered

not.

Before he could enjoy the contents, however, he first needed

to access the damned room.

He had tried everything he could think of.

From unlocking charms to transfigurations, and even placing

his own blood on the serpent, but nothing worked.

Tom was so close, yet so far.

He was in the right place. He could feel it in every fibre of

his being, but he could not unravel the conundrum he faced.

Taking a calming breath, he tapped the engraving with his

wand and cast a diagnostic charm, only to find himself

propelled across the room and crashing through one of the

cubicle doors.

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Sodden from where he had dislodged the toilet within, he

growled as he pushed his hair from his eyes.

Having lost what little hold he had left of his temper; Tom

shot to his feet and stomped his way towards the sink.

"WHY WON'T YOU OPEN!" he spat, inadvertently slipping

into parseltongue.

He stumbled backwards as the pipes around the sink began

to groan, and the entire section of column descended into

the floor, leaving a large opening.

Cautiously, Tom edged towards it and peered into the abyss.

"I did it," he whispered in disbelief, lighting the tip of his

wand.

He could see barely a few feet into the darkness, but he

wasn't going to let that deter him from exploring what he

had searched so long for.

Taking a final cursory glance around the bathroom, he sat

and allowed his legs to dangle over the opening before

releasing a deep breath.

Bracing himself, he dropped, his stomach lurching as he slid

into the bowels of the castle.

"Arresto Momentum!"

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His descent slowed, but he was still launched from the end

with considerable force and thudded to the stone floor with

a thud.

Cursing under his breath, Tom stood and tried to wipe the

dirt from his now torn robes and looked around.

He was within another tunnel, and already having decided

against turning back, he made his way through it, the only

sound being the dripping of water somewhere in the

distance.

Was this really Salazar Slytherin's hidden place?

It was cold and damp down here, not somewhere Tom

imagined one of the greatest sorcerers of all time would

choose to spend time, but his doubts were alleviated as he

came upon an intricate door adorned with several snakes

made of bronze.

"Open?" he tried, a sense of excitement filling him as the

creatures seemingly came to life and the door popped open

with a groan.

The cavern he entered was enormous with two large pools of

water lining the walkway, each side decorated with several

statues of snakes.

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Tom swallowed deeply as he began walking between them in

a daze.

It was not often he allowed himself to indulge in emotions

that were overwhelming, but he could not stop them now

even if he wished to.

The Chamber of Secrets was incredible, and it was now his

as it had once been his vaunted ancestor's.

What did give him pause, however, were the footprints on

the ground that he had yet to tread.

There were several identical sets of them, some entering the

chamber, and others leaving, something that did not sit right

with Tom.

Somebody had been here much more recently than a

thousand years ago when Salazar roamed the castle.

It angered the teen, his elation all but vanishing as he caught

sight of where the footprints led.

In the centre of the room was an enormous skull, of what

creature, he couldn't be certain, but it was undoubtedly

snakelike in nature.

Stuck to the middle of it was a piece of parchment, and

Tom's stomach sunk further than it had at the realisation

someone else had been here before him.

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With a trembling hand, he removed the note, his jaw

clenching as he read.

To Whomever found the chamber,

I congratulate you for your discovery, but I'm afraid your efforts

have all been in vain.

The knowledge, the treasures, and the basilisk are all gone, and

now serve as compensation for the heir's transgressions against

my family.

The legacy of Slytherin is dead.

Tom's breathing became laboured from the unbridled fury he

felt.

How dare someone help themselves to what was rightfully

his?

He frowned at the final sentence of the note that had been

etched into the bottom of the parchment.

You should run now…

As he finished reading, the two statues closest to him

exploded in a shower of stone, followed in twos by the rest,

each unleashing a geyser of water.

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Quickly, the chamber began to flood, and heeding the

warning of the note, Tom ran towards the exit, panicking as

he tripped over some debris and was submerged in the water.

Pushing himself to his feet, he continued to run towards the

exit, his breathing coming in short, sharp bursts, his legs

burning from the effort.

Already, the need to escape was overwhelming but only

increased as an enormous column of water erupted, carrying

the skull of the basilisk atop it.

Tom's eyes widened as the maw opened, the animated

behemoth lunging at him from where he had stood only a

moment ago.

"OPEN!" he screamed as he hurtled towards the door,

passing through it and pulling it closed but a split-second

before something crashed against it.

Tom did not stop to catch his breath, nor wait for any other

surprises that had been left for him.

Much to his shame, though it was something he would

never admit to himself, he ran for all his life was worth, and

as far as Tom was concerned, nothing was more valuable

than that.

(Break)

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There was nothing that brought Minerva more joy than

seeing Harry with Rosa. When he was with their daughter,

he was unguarded, his eyes full of youth that had slowly but

surely become absent in the past years.

In its place for the most part was a hollowness that only war

could bring, especially when he suddenly woke in the early

hours of the morning.

He tried to hide his internal struggles from Minerva and

everyone else that worried for him, and perhaps he was

successful with the others, but he could not keep it from her.

Minerva knew him too well, had watched as he lost more

and more of himself through the sacrifices Harry made.

Not that he would be deterred from continuing as he was.

She had accepted long ago that Harry would give his all to

putting an end to Grindelwald, and Minerva could only

hope that whatever was left was enough of the man she had

fallen in love with.

"What is it?" she asked as Harry suddenly laughed, his eyes

full of mischief.

"Riddle just found the Chamber of Secrets," he explained. "I

doubt he got what he was expecting."

"Is he dead?" Minerva asked somewhat hopefully.

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Being a mother, she didn't wish death on any child, but Tom

Riddle was no normal child.

Whenever she looked at him, she saw the monster that

Harry had described, the evil that lurked behind what he

believed to be charismatic persona.

It was all an act, concealing the monster within the boy.

Harry shrugged.

"Maybe, but I doubt it," he grumbled. "He wouldn't die so

easily."

Minerva sighed as she shook her head.

"Will it ever end?" she asked.

Harry nodded as he walked towards her with a napping

Rosa in his arms.

"It will," he promised. "One day, both Grindelwald and

Riddle will be dead."

"And then you will find another monster to slay?"

Harry snorted derisively.

"No," he denied. "There will be no more demons haunting

me after that."

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Minerva offered him a smile and rested her head against his

chest.

"What will you do when it's over?"

"I don't know," Harry answered honestly. "Bloody hell, here

we go," he added with a sigh.

Minerva looked up and was greeted by the sight of an

ethereal hawk hovering in front of them, its wings flapping

silently to keep it airborne.

"Adams didn't listen," it spoke in an irritated voice. "He

attempted to attack the Yugoslavian border and lost almost four

hundred of his men and got injured in the process. We got most of

them back. I just thought you should know."

With that, the hawk vanished, and Harry shook his head,

the hollowness returning to his eyes.

"Fucking idiot," he whispered.

It wasn't often Minerva heard Harry curse. He only did so

when something had really irked him, as it evidently had

now.

"The American?" she asked.

He had told her of their arrival that had left him and the rest

of the ICW forces rather unimpressed.

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Comments (22)

"I knew he would do something stupid," Harry huffed as he

handed Rosa to her.

"So, that means you need to go back?"

He'd been home only a few days, and Minerva couldn't hide

her disappointment at the thought of him leaving again.

Much to her surprise, Harry shook his head before taking

Rosa back.

"No, the bastard can stew," he declared. "It's not like he's

going anywhere. I'll deal with him when I get there."

Minerva simply smiled, once more enjoying the sight of

Harry holding their daughter whilst he was here.

'For the short time they had him,' she added internally.

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Thanks for another very entertaining chapter, and the trap

for Tom was awesome to read, and the ending

heartwarming.

Ken Adams on his European trip Eh???

Great chapter!

Harry is on leave way too often, in every chapter lately, that's

not okay. Balance between arcs is pretty bad right now. The

romance arc should be done already, they're married, they

have a kid - that's it, only domestic routine is left, not

something to write about in detail, now's the time to focus

more on action.

AvidReader2425 2 weeks ago · 0 Likes

Dabbtrabb A month ago · 0 Likes

Village Mystic 2 months ago · 0 Likes

Mr.Heller 2 months ago · 0 Likes

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US didnt fare well at the start of the African campaign

either took some time and the right commanders to move

forward

Like always thank you for the chapter.

How they always want to be cheered on is bad taste but yeah

politics ...

Sure as hell this missadventure will ve reported to the ICW

and American side. Additional I won't be suprised if Harry

won't create him a new one for this stupid action... which

could have gone seriously wrong for the ICW group also...

Great chapter. I suspect that the relations between the ICW

and the Americans are pretty realistic. In WW2, we showed

up when Britain was on the back foot. In this story, Britain

and the ICW are winning, slowly, so cocky Americans

(which I admit we are, but so what?) would not be as well

received.

Elaine Rose 2 months ago · 0 Likes

ChiruKaio 2 months ago · 0 Likes

Steve Moss 2 months ago · 0 Likes

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I think Grindelwald messed up in a big way by not winning

the loyalty of the populations he conquered. He used thugs,

they did thug like things, and the people hate him for it.

Whatever goal he's pursuing, his foundation was built on

quicksand and wouldn't have lasted. He was doomed to fail

from the start.

I don't really see him being doomed from the start because

of those reasons. He was in canon because of Dumbledore,

and here because of Harry. But in this story specifically...

Remove Harry from the equation and have the fight with

Dumbledore play out slightly differently and he had a solid

chance of creating the cultural revolution he was aiming for.

Special people like them coming out of the woodwork is

what doomed his ambitions.

Dictators might not last very long or have very many friends

who aren't themselves dictators (For a certain definition of

the world "friend"), but there's no denying going down that

route grants you a LOT of power and very quickly too.

More than enough to force the wizarding world on whatever

path he wanted if he didn't get unlucky. It wouldn't have

mattered how he treated the populations he conquered when

he's holding all the power.

StoneTheLoner 2 months ago · 0 Likes

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I forgot who Derek was, but remembered it was Gilbert!

Harry should find a way to permanently bind Tom's core,

make him a squib

That would be a great punishment but I don't see it

happening. Clearly if they have something like a core it can

be recreated like with how Voldemort made himself a new

body. As a ghost/shade/whatever he was without a body he

presumably wouldn't have a magical core anymore, but he

was able to make a body that had one. Harry knows that

from personal experience and wouldn't be able to trust he

wouldn't find another way /

Thank you very much for posting this chapter I really

appreciate it a lot.

Isles 2 months ago · 0 Likes

Isles 2 months ago · 0 Likes

StoneTheLoner 2 months ago · 0 Likes

Justin 2 months ago · 0 Likes

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The Chamber and Riddle's interaction with Helena seems

to be the only thing that's been interesting about Tom, to be

honest. He's just so... 2 dimensional, I think, is the word.

There's nothing going for him but Harry's revenge, and at

this point, doesn't seem like much of a challenge. Gellert is

way better as an antagonist.

I've been commenting that since Tom met Helena! That

interaction had the potential to be the most interesting part

of the Tom subplot but nothing has been done with it! It's a

shame it isn't happening. I keep hoping we'll see his path

diverging with the influence Harry is having on the world

and on him and a surprise romantic interest in that ghost

would've done wonders for making his scenes actually worth

reading.

Honestly I'm skimming them rn. I know where things are

going and nothing interesting is being done with it, so in

effect, it becomes something like boring filler. Something

that fills in space but doesn't offer anything impactful or

Not Logged In - great name, I know. 2 months ago · 0 Likes

StoneTheLoner 2 months ago · 0 Likes

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important. I've already seen the finished product and he isn't

doing anything now that would be surprising because of it.

Tom riddle's story is starting to feel like filler

He's not being written in surprising ways, so yeah... I would

agree with him feeling like filler. He's kind of just there and

nothing interesting is being done with him. Remove his pov

from the story and nothing changes. So why are we being

given his pov?...

I do not understand why Harry has not killed him already

Morality. Riddle may be a baby Hitler, but most people

would be adverse to killing a child. Who knows, with the

change in the timeline, maybe Riddle would grow up to be

less horrible. Of course, we know that's not happening but

Harry is giving him a chance.

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He can not. Even while Harry knows what Riddle is

capable of the future is not set in stone.

You can not condemn someone just because he may turn

out a soziopath.

As long as Riddle does not go against the law and there is

proof of it as long Harry can not do anything.

Or better phrased as long Harry should do nothing else

than maybe keep an eye on him.

His attack on Tom years ago was already the wrong thing

to do.

If Tom would have told someone right at this time than it

would have been against Harry. Who was a visitor of

Hogwarts at this time and even if Tom should never have

tried to listen into the attack was unwaranted.

At this time Harry could have loose his allowance to just

enter Hogwarts to meet with Minerva and everyone else.

You could even say that this attack just cemented his hate

even more.

Sure Tom is dangerous or at least he will it be as soon as

he leaves Hogwarts for good. But as soon as he creates his

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first Horcrux I think he is all game. I mean at this point he

will have killed someone in cold blood.

Ehh. I consider myself a moral person, but this

particular thought experiment isn't so cut and dry.

Nobody can say with certainty what they would do in

that sort of situation including me, but I've long since

come to the conclusion that I could abandon my

claim to morality if it stopped someone like Hitler or

a Voldemort. Would sacrifice my own goodness on

the alter of the greater good if the scenario was that

monumental. Thousands or millions or billions of

lives. My own little life is laughably unimportant

when compared to that stack of bodies.

But that's a weird scenario anyway. Barring only

being given that choice you could just as easily kidnap

the kid and dump him in an orphanage in another

country. But yeah, I can it within myself to condemn

certain kids before they've grown if I know they turn

out like one of those people. If that's the only option

I'm being given... /

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Changing Hitler's or Voldemort's fate isn't

gonna be effective, I think.

The reason they rose to power is the way society

was then - they were simply the catalyst for an

explosion bound to happen some time. The other

way things could have gone is that society's

problems would simply keep simmering, with

little to no change to the status quo, and this

drawn out situation will effect the future even

more negatively than a whole war.

Pureblood superiority and a joke of a

government are the reasons why Tom was able

to amass as many followers and cause as much

damage as he did. Without it, he would have

been an extremely powerful(magically) but

maybe manageable nuisance to peace and

security.

The state of the world and Germany after

WW1 was already unstable - Hitler's

antisemitic approach to politics and the

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When the Roses Bloom Again - My

When the Roses Bloom

Again - A

imperialist views of the people (not just

Germans) did not help.

In short, I am telling that simply killing the

figurehead of something is akin to breaking off

some ice of the tip of an iceberg.

First Tom is a psychopath, he was born that way.

Furthermore, why should he be different, he had the

exact same upbringing except that he was watched

even more. Harry is also jaded through his work,

personal experiences and his fusion with the Horcrux.

I do not think this Harry would really hesitate to end

this threat. After all Harry could get away with

murder because his skill set is very sophisticated and

murder in the magical world is really easy just banish

the body.

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Author/Site Owner: Lee : TheBlack'sResurgence

Email: (For all enquiries)

Enemy's Approach

Move so Brazen

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