23rd October, 1981.

The fresh snow of the previous day reflected sparkling sunshine. James was flying circles in the valleys in Nurmengard's proximity, piloting the broom with one hand and holding Harry with the other.

"Jupp!"

"No jumping off, son. The show's so deep here, I'd need a summoning charm to get you out of it."

"Jupp!"

"All right, jump when I'll tell you. Steady..." James took a singing sweet from his pocket, only to keep the game interesting for his child. It was wrapped in a brilliant shade of red, easy to spot on the fresh white snow. He threw the treat, and Harry, displaying more talent than a professional seeker (at least, more than that of the Chudley Cannons) threw himself after it with perfect aim.

Then he had to be summoned out of the snow, just like his father predicted.

"Jupp!" demanded the boy again.

"Out of sweets."

"Dad jupp!"

"Jump together? Who's going to pilot the broom then?"

"Dad jupp. I bwoom!"

"No way. One more jump and I'm drying you! Your mother will get a heart attack if she sees you like this."

"Yur moter," pointed Harry suddenly upwards.

The next moment it was James who almost had a heart failure: Lily was sitting sheer across the handle of her Comet, at the height of the tower's highest window, lazily elbowing on the narrow pane.

Their son made good use of his distraction and threw himself off the broom once again. "Now dad jupp!"

"Do you want your dad to get stuck in the snow, or do you want my broom?"

"Bwoom!"

"You have your own."

"Bwoom!"

"What will I tell your godpaw, eh? That you'll grow out your broom by the time you two can meet? Well, that might just happen anyway, considering how busy the Order is. Tergeo."

Under the spell, the snow all disappeared from the one and a quarter year old's coat and scarf, as if it had never been white with it a moment before.

"Can I let you sit on your own? But then, no jumping anymore."

"No jupp," confirmed the boy. As his father's grip loosened on him, he held on to the willow handle with all his strength.

"Very good. Turn us around! Let us not fly entirely above the valley. Can you pilot me home? I mean..."

He didn't know how he meant. He wasn't ready to call this gloomy castle 'home' where they'd been hiding from Voldemort for a week now. It was a necessity because their real home wasn't safe enough. For Harry, however, it was a three-stories indoor playground where he could fly from hall to hall on the toy broom Sirius had gifted him. As for the outside, their backyard garden never stood a comparison with the spectacular hillsides and wild forests. Besides, they really were safe here.

In the afternoon they all could witness the strength of the wards still covering the valley. The Potters hurried to the windows when a motorcycle's familiar roar echoed from the snowy mountain sides.

Padfoot then ricocheted and rebounced from the invisible bubble that surrounded the castle. When he parked his enchanted vehicle and tried coming in on foot, the result was basically the same, although the bouncing was definitely smaller this time. His animagus form couldn't get through, either. When he sat back on the motorcycle and drove it at a lot more reasonable speed, the vehicle rolled up an invisible dome that's highest point was exactly above the room in which Lily was now standing.

The which didn't even put down her broom, only got off the floating wood at the door. She pointed her wand at the workdesk and said, "Please let him in. He's a guest and a true friend of our family."

The characters flashed too fast on the wooden surface, all she could tell was that about half of them were Latin letters and some were Cyrillic. Her knowledge of ancient runes was of little help with these wards, that was certain.

The dome under Sirius's motorbike opened just enough for him to fall through. After some quick correction, its rider steered it to the castle's main entrance. He grimaced at the line, circle and triangle drawn on top of each other above the heavy wooden door, then carefully parked his vehicle in the entrance hall.

(Several stories higher, the master of the house buried his face in both hands in shame. His only comfort was that he wouldn't have to bear this humiliation for long.)

"Paffoow!"

"Sirius!"

"Hi, everyone! Oh, Alice, I'm so sorry about Fra... Hello, Harry! Nevvie! You found a pretty large house for roughhousing! Do you use it accordingly?"

"Padfoot, it's nice of you to drop by. What's this mourning robe for?"

"I'm officially orphaned!" announced Sirius. "No, Alice, you know just as well as James and Lily does, my parents and I hated each other mutually and deeply, and them dying didn't change our relations. I'll walk like this for a few days, and that's all and they don't even deserve this much. The sole Black, wearing black."

"What happened?".

"Some death eater infight," explained Sirius while he got comfortable in what had once been the inner circle's canteen. With both boots on the elegant table he continued, "as it turns out, after Reg's death my dear parents sought to ensure the future of the Wizarding World by letting death eaters use the ancestral home as headquarters and Volde... Wait, does the taboo work here?"

"Better not test it. So, were Orion and Walburga also supporting We-Know-Who?"

"By letting him use the house at Grimmauld place. I'd call it a considerable fortress, even if it can't hold a candle to this one. By the way, does the death emblem above the door not bother you?"

"Well, back home every second wizarding grave has it," shrugged James. "It's not like Grindelwald invented it. Anyway, the complete meaning is 'to defeat Death."

"To rule over Death," clarified Alice. "And James is right about its origins. What happened to your parents?"

"They let twenty-some death eaters into their home, that's what happened. Some random ones got into a fight, curses flew, and because they were all wearing skull masks we 'll never know whose spell exploded the sofa they were both seated on. In the second they died, the house ownership transferred to me, and the wards threw the entire company out to the open before the front door. Edgar's checking through the house for any leftovers as we talk.

"And I'm left out of this all!"

"You're raising a son, Alice," Lily attempted to calm her down. "Perhaps if you do you job well, Nev will refrain from keeping his boots on the table, unlike some wizards."

"And as it stands, you've become the next Black to attend Wizengamot sections. You will attend, won't you?"

"I'll have to. And what boots? Scourgify. There, not even a trace of me on that. Hey, have I told you that my beloved mother didn't know this spell? She only shrieked for an elf to clean up after her."

"She might as well have been a squib."

"Don't speak ill of the dead!"

"Then I won't speak of her!"

"And what happened to that deranged house elf?"

"I gave it to Arthur. Irritating pest as it is, it will keep the house clean, that'll keep it busy with six boys and a girl. He accepted. Reluctantly, but he did."

Meanwhile, in a school somewhere in Scotland, a lot less cheerful conversation was taking place.

"..So, you got so scared that they would recognize you, you threw a Bombarda between them."

"I didn't know neither had a wand on them! I only intended to distract!"

"And thanks to you, Voldemort lost his headquarters."

The miserable former death eater squeaked, hearing that name. Which Professor Dumbledore seemed to find amusing for some reason. "Oh, for all I care, Voldemort can come wherever I happen to be." In a now mirthless tone, he continued, "But you can't remain a member of the Order of the Phoenix, I suppose you're aware."

"But where shall I go?"

Albus didn't think for long.

"Well, you've never been a prodigy at Potions... How about History of Magic? I've been advised it's time to hire a living teacher again."

"You want me to TEACH? At Hogwarts?"

"I was under the impression that's why you sought me out. It's the safest place in Britain, see, not even Voldemort can reach you here. In turn, I would like to see all your memories, Peter. I don't think it's a bad offer, considering it's war and you made enemies of both sides."

Back at Nurmengard, the witches returned to brewing potions. A lot of those had been used up after the Battle of the Burrow, and nobody could expect the remaining Weasleys to brew for themselves. While stirring her cauldron, Alice asked Sirius about her husband's death.

"One of the Lestranges, but nobody knows which one," was all Sirius could tell. "They went three against one. Hey, have you heard baby Crouch was also there? The senior one is totally out of it. James, is there nothing drinkable here?"

"I can offer you no less than five baby teas, you can have it with or without lemon. Alice asked what happened to Frank."

"He took on a group of death eaters, gutted one of them alive, and then – bright green flash. By their voice, it were the Lestrange brothers, but I can't tell them apart even when they aren't dressed in golden skulls. You couldn't have helped him even if you had been there, Alice."

"Or maybe everything could have gone differently."

"Like you getting killed along him."

"I'm done with hiding! I want to break Voldemort's neck along with all his cronies!"

Sirius frowned. "You seriously want to lure that slithering worm to the castle where my godson is hidden?"

"Just a... habit," backed away Alice. "No, I wouldn't want We Know Who to come here."

"Then watch your mouth," warned Lily. "As long as they only know we're abroad, they won't spread the taboo over the entire planet. But if they get an approximation, they might put it over the Alps. Gellert told me how to refocus the wards, but I'll have to wait until midnight, and not even he can do much about the taboo."

"You say, 'Gellert'?" asked back both Marauders and the auror in unison.

"Our host."

"You're on first names?"

"How can you even stomach talking to him?"

"James, do you not know your wife?" asked Sirius. "She collects dark wizards. She'd luckily grown out of Snivellus, skipped Volde... Sorry, that's because of you, Alice! So, We-All-Very-Well-Know-Who was left out, but here's a mass murderer from some forty years ago, of course she'd take him under her wing."

A pan that wasn't in use until now hit the wizard's head. "Auch! What was that for?"

"Sorry, Sirius, you're my best pal, but not even you get to talk about Lily like that in my presence," said James. "No, I don't like her talking with Grindelwald either, but if that's what it costs to keep Harry safe, so be it."

"Thank you, James," Lily said, kissing her husband. "Has anyone seen the pre-brewed lace wings?"

"This?"

"Thanks, Alice!"

By afternoon, Lily had brewed three bottlefuls of Skele-Grow, three pints of blood replenisher, baby food for two days in advance, and five tubes of wound ointment. She was exceptionally proud of the last one, she'd made it with herbs growing on the mountains, and the result was so brilliant that she decided to write the recipe down and asked Sirius to pass it to Marley McKinnon when they meet next time. In the same note, she mentioned that the Skele-Grow also has an extra component, a hair from Armin's mane.

When the men took their broom and motorbike to drink through the local muggle beer supplies and the two kids, with their bellies full, dropped around Alice, she went up to their host. Sirius's opinion didn't matter to her. That of the International Congress might have mattered, if only they would have minded Voldemort's activity and if only they wouldn't have considered the deaths of Frank and Molly (and Sneaky) to be 'of local importance.'

"It's like Sneaky's life never mattered," she mused. "Like only humans could be mourned for."

"While a trusty mount is worth more than a false friend."

"Are you referring to Albus now?"

"Did I ever have anyone else?" The dark wizard growled. "He's too ashamed to even look my way again. After three decades of solitude I would have given my magic for a few nice words."

"Where do you think I am, if not here?"

"And there's nothing I wouldn't do for you in exchange for your company you freely give," the wizard hastily stated. "Only, as you may have noticed, I cannot do anything for you..."

Lily stepped closer, pressing her palm to the thick, unmoving door.

"You could forgive Albus."

"HOW?" The dark wizard all but roared.

"You're strong enough for that."

A minute of silence followed.

"Gellert, you can forgive him. Not right now, but I noticed you're always so bitter about him, and while you claim to be the more daring one of the two of you, I believe you're only the larger hypocrite."

Her host tore at what little remained of his matted, whitened hair.

" Please, just try. Maybe, do it before Christmas?"

"Which Christmas?"

Lily ignored the question. "Sirius flies back home tomorrow in the morning. Normally he can't be trusted with a log of firewood, but if I'd give him a sealed envelope with Professor Dumbledore's name on it, you can bet he will deliver it."

"I refuse." Grindelwald was pacing in his cell like a wild animal that'd been locked up for thirty-six years. He might have shattered the entire castle if only he still could – the entire trap he had set and fell into. Even worse, the witch on the other side of the door was right and they both knew she was.

But by the time he looked up, the emerald-eyed witch was gone.

She went to retrieve ink and parchment.

The castle was eerily silent, resembling more like a cave than a house. It was a few minutes before midnight when Lily passed its corridors; the winds brought an icy mist from the broken windows, like the breath of unseen cold monsters.

More like ever before, the building felt like a trap from which there's no escape. She held close the carefully folded dress she'd been wearing all day, and sent forward a Lumos into Grindelwald's former room. The ball of light lost most of its brightness in there, but she could still make out the unmovable workdesk and so, she didn't bother to repeat the spell. She was not here to battle the ghost of a wizard who hadn't even died yet.

Earlier, she'd already checked the dark wizard's office on the far side of the same corridor; the elegant tables there were all shattered, burnt or shredded beyond repair. This one, the witness to sketches of only the most devilish plans, stood perfectly intact throughout the hungry raids and the eventless decades.

The faded ball of Lumos danced above her head, where the chandelier had once been. Lily hid her wand in her sleeve, knowing she wouldn't need it now. She wasn't here to cast new charms, she only needed the residue of the many spells she'd applied while wearing that dress in her hands.

24th October, 1981.

When the soft fabric first came in contact with the dress, it threw angry sparks of all colours, the second time, it screamed like a man waking from a nightmare. But third time, the innate magic yielded, and by the time she rubbed the desk for the seventh time, the first characters of writing glowed up, if only for a passing moment.

Lily continued her work. She persistently rubbed the old wood of the furniture...

It was almost one o'clock by the time she got back to the bed she shared with, well, a huge stag. She kissed the animagus on the nape.

She'd been up for far longer than usual, but the closer contact with the wards was worth a few hours of missed sleep. She was no longer at a refuge, rather, she was at home. She felt the reassuring buzz of the recently woken wards, singing about their powerful magic to her ears alone. No enemy could get in behind her back now.

All there was left for her to figure were the taboo and the reckless nature of both James and Alice.

James brought her breakfast to bed, which would have sparked her suspicion under normal circumstances.

"You want something," muttered she.

"A smile on your face and a little sister for our son," came the answer. "And also, for the wards' mistress to let Sirius leave, for he forgot to bring his bottle of hangover brew."

"Boys...!" Then it occurred to her that there could be a letter she wanted Sirius to deliver, and in her experience, dressing Harry up was also not a task she could entrust to her beloved James. While she desperately wished she could do the opposite, she crawled out of their bed.

She found a decidedly grumpy wizard in the well-secured uppermost cell, but she also found a sheet of parchment that had been carefully wrapped into another. But as she hurried down the stairs with her unread trophy, she heard the motorcycle'# unmistakable roar as the engine came to life. She couldn't believe that her son's godfather, the best man on her wedding, would leave without a goodbye!

She found James just as confused.

"I've never seen Padfoot this horribly hung over. He was like he never held an ignition key before! Is that a letter?"

She ignored the question, focusing her attention to the wards instead. Someone just passed the outermost layers, and it didn't feel the way it should have. "I'll go and check on Armin."

James followed her to the thestral's place. Next to the stallion, Goldess was clawing at the locked stable door. "Odd, I left it open," she mused before casting an Alohomora. The hippogriff took up to the northern horizon with no delay.

"Something is not right," said James. "Sirius is the worst womanizer I know, but that mare shouldn't have hurried after him."

Then Lily understood. Perhaps if she hadn't spent half the night charming an old workdesk, she would have put two and two together Sirius not recognizing the ignition key. Goldess bursting out to the sky after being locked in the stable. The lacewings missing from the preserve the day before.

"Alice is mad," declared she. "Raging mad," yelled she as she hurried up to the rooms.

They found (the real) Sirius stunned in his bed, and a note of 'I'll be back soon' on Neville's blanket.

She sent a patronus to Moody, although she supposed that the Auror Corps were in a chaos after the sudden retirement of Crouch Senior. The old wizard lived for law enforcement, for fighting criminals and sending them to Azkaban; he had played a key role in keeping the Ministry of Magic out of Voldemort's reach, and everybody had believed he'd fall in battle, not because of his family. Lily couldn't put it behind Voldemort that he'd intentionally let young Barty behind, considering the result of his discovery.

A little later she received another patronus from (the real) Sirius Black, reassuring her that the letter had been delivered to Albus, but also informing them that Alice must have gone on a one-witch-mission. His motorbike was found at one of the Order's safehouses.

The sun was setting behind the graceful mountains when Alice returned, and the wards glowed in an alarming shade of red in her broom's wake.

"James, you must go outside to get her! I will stun her above the path between the two pines, that's where the snow is the thickest. Bring her in but don't let her wake up!"

"Lily, Mistress of the Castle! Why?"

"She's under Imperius. Can't you see all the wards glowing?"

Well, he did not, but one of the nasty details about the curse is that it leaves no outside mark, so he boarded his broom obediently. He wasn't even out of the building when his wife Stupified the returning widow. But when he got there and lifted the unconscious auror on his own broom, he could see bloody sweat on her as well. In his experience that only happened when several people cast Cruciatus on the same target.

She was taken to the farthest guest room, still unconscious. Lily also cast a variant of the jelly-leg jinx on her entire body so that she wouldn't harm anybody when she came to.

"Neville was crying all day and now we have to keep him away from her."

"We do it for him as well."

"Have you cast the wound-summariser on her yet?"

"No. Did you check the broom she came on?"

"I didn't look for it. Why?"

"If it had a homing spell, the death eaters must have an idea of our general whereabouts. They know we're in Austria."

The Potter couple stared at each other for a long minute.

"The taboo also applies here, " Lily eventually concluded. "And I bet that's what the Imperius is for. To make her say that name of his."

James gazed at the two witches. "So, Wardsmistress, what do we do?"

Minerva McGonagall would have never doubted Albus Dumbledore's wisdom, but she was ready to admit his logic might have had some faults. Pettigrew's knowledge of History, like that of so many other students, ended at the answers written on the classroom desks but didn't include what questions these were the answers to. She would have argued the headmaster, but he was only waiting for the opportunity to slip away and re-read the letter he was given. It was a simple-looking parchment, where the sender's signature should have been, it only read, 'I'm aware you don't wish to be compromised, lest you lose your high fame.' The truth in that line hurt Albus, but he slid the letter into his robe's inner pocket above his heart.

"Do you even hear us, Professor?"

No, the honest answer would have been, he hadn't noticed being talked to. "Sorry, I was just thinking about what an old friend told me about Sybil's prophecy. Possibly the entire interpretation, because of which Voldemort is after our friends' sons, is mistaken."

"That whole wizard is a mistake," replied Minerva.

"What did he write? It concerns my best friend's son!" demanded Peter.

The headmaster gave him a puzzled look before he decided to explain, "Sybil's words of a 'Dark Lord' might not refer to the title anyone alive had given himself. In some texts it would mean Death himself."

"But what sense does it make, if it isn't about Snakemouth's end?" McGonagall sounded disappointed.

"It means one of the boys could defeat Death. I will readily admit that I like the previous interpretation better, this one makes little sense when wizards more powerful than anyone I know have never done such thing." His old fingers touched the handle of his wand while he talked, but that must have been a coincidence.

Peter had to think this through. He just gained vital information, if Dumbledore's unknown friend is right then Voldemort was chasing two children in vain. But would he like the news as much as to forgive the fiasco at Grimmauld Place? Is it worth the risk? No, he eventually decided. He wouldn't tell just yet.

There was one man, however, who overheard this discussion, although he had been dead for about a millennium. Unlike Peter, the Bloody Baron had nothing to lose, not even in Voldemort's first rage after hearing he'd been after the wrong targets for so long. The living could never hurt the dead, but the same didn't go the other way round. And there were so many children in his House with at least one parent in Riddle's ranks... Or there was the Prince spawn, selling information to Albus in exchange for keeping a mudblood alive for him. Decisions, decisions... Maybe he should let Tom have some fun before he's informed that he'd gain nothing? But he dropped that idea: keeping a double agent informed was sure to shake up the proceedings a little.

Severus Snape only returned to his former school to return some books to his Head of House (officially) and to pass some carefully picked bits of useless information (as he had told Dumbledore.) He was already in a bad mood: what use was in keeping Lily from the front lines when James Potter and his spawn also remained safe? And then the Bloody Baron entrusted to him news of great importance:

1, Maybe in the future the Dark Lord won't be focused on killing Harry Potter.

2, But then, he wouldn't be as focused on killing James Potter either, which was bad.

3, According to the spy among the Aurors, Alice Longbottom was also in the same hidey - hole as the Potters (in the Alps, presumably the Eastern half of them) and she'd hurt the Lestrange brothers pretty badly before Bellatrix came to their rescue. Even if the Dark Lord himself will no longer care about the two bags of reeking nappies, many death eaters including Bellatrix will do anything to get to them. Voldemort gave his word not to kill Lily Evans, his right hand witch did not.

Conclusion,

4, He had to prevent Voldemort ever hearing that new interpretation.

While,

5, Dumbledore had told Pettigrew exactly in the hopes that the little worm would hurry to deliver it.

6, With which Pettigrew was sure to gain their Lord's trust and appreciation as the most reliable informant.

7, Summary: Pettigrew had to be stopped immediately.

8, While also ensuring that Voldemort gets into that house and kills James Potter.

9, Also while either Voldemort goes alone without Lestrange née Black, or with himself, Severus Snape along with the Dark Lord.

10, Ideally, it would be him going along with the Dark Lord while Lestrange stays in Britain.

This wasn't simple at all.

26th October, 1981

James and Lily took turns tending to the two boys and the tortured Alice, while also trying to come up with a better solution than the continued use of the muting hex. Lily spent hours circling between various halls (and one cell) of the castle, James attempted everything he could think of to distract her from the continuous (muted) mantra of their enemy's name. Breaking the Imperious wouldn't have been easy in itself, and apparently, Bellatrix had tortured her for at least half an hour before giving the order. On top of it all, poor Alice was repeating the name everyone dreaded, now obviously she did as well.

"Did you learn something?" asked he when his wife flew into the kitchen from the staircase on her broom.

"Nothing more than Gellert's passion for singing. Which doesn't say he could sing, but he does so nevertheless." She put the broom aside and waved her wand at a basketful of vegetables. "Anyway, we were testing the immediate muting wards. I think we figured it out: whoever says the first two syllables of the taboo, the walls will take their voice." The witch grimaced. "Voice-taking was already in the wards, I only had to meddle with them a little. Originally it was to prevent prisoners from screaming everyone up."

"Padfoot was right, you are collecting dark wizards. Had Salazar not banned you from his House, I would be overwhelmed."

Lily landed a slap on his face, although it wasn't more than a caress, before returning to simmering carrots for the boys. And also, for Alice, whom they had to feed bite by bite until she could use her mouth for more sensible deeds than mutely repeating a name.

After they all had lunch, James suggested putting their host's singing to work – if it was as horrible as Lily had hinted, he hoped it would distract Alice.

"I'm not so sure it's a humane idea. When I told him that he sounded like a 98 year old cracked pot, his reply was that his self esteem had been ruined as it is, but I managed to ruin it even more."

"I'm so not sorry for the self esteem of the century's darkest monster."

"Neither am I. By the way, I just moved a sofa up to the landing by the cell door, let's see if Alice finds it comfortable.

She did. Not only did the traumatized auror fall asleep on the magically expanded staircase landing, but so did the two boys, granting a few hours of reprieve to the Potter parents. James couldn't fathom what Grindelwald couldn't understand in 'age appropriate songs, please', because the old wizard picked the ballad of Klingschor as a lullaby. The tragic story of the self-mutilated dark wizard of the Pyrenees gave James shivers, but the boys were too young to follow the lyrics and Alice was safe from the sort of damage the titular character had inflicted on himself. Seeing her husband's distress, and enjoying the rare opportunity of being just the two of them, Lily reminded him that, unlike Klingschor, James had all the capacity to make a little sister for Harry. So they busied themselves with that sort of activity.

Peter Pettigrew's teaching carreer lasted only this long. Soon after the talk about the alternative meaning of the prophecy he had followed the Dark Mark's summoning and hadn't returned to Hogwarts since.

Dumbledore shrugged at the newest loss. He would have helped the Griffindor boy, if only he knew where to look for him, but he couldn't endanger any of the spent and worn-out Order members to save a traitor. (Who didn't even turn to him because of a burning conscience, but because he'd cornered himself with a spell powered by his panic.) He was more distressed by the fact that not even his death eater spy seemed to know anything about Peter's wheteabout. Cuthberth Binns took back his subject without complaint, and neither did the students ask about the temporary replacement's fate.

Of course, in reality, the spy among the death eaters very well knew about Peter sleeping under the pile of firewood at Spinner's End, and so did he know the sleep-inducing potion the Marauder had drunk. The full dose's effect would only wear off on the last day of the month, he had until then to smooth out the rough edges of his plan.

For now, he was staring at the map of the Continent. Alice's broom only sent a single signal, and it was from Austria, and the spies from auror forces confirmed that her service mount (now guarded by Alastor Moody) had also returned from that direction. But what could be of importance there? The most interesting detail on the map was the name of a village with F. This was of no use.

Wondering if he was looking at the wrong country, he moved his magnifying spell to the surrounding area. In Switzerland he spotted another curious name, this time, that of a small town. Grindelwald? Wasn't there a wizard with that name, whom Dumbledore had washed the floor with, before Severus was even born? He set aside the map and summoned a book on important purebloods. He didn't have much here, at Spinner's end, most of the Prince family tomes had been used up for heating by a certain muggle father. This copy was from Lucius Malfoy, who had made sure that a useful ally like him would be well educated in proper wizarding culture.

He looked up Grindelwald the wizard. Pureblood, expelled from Durmstrang, practically ruled throughout the first half of the century; there was a now abandoned prison fortress in a picture so still that it could have been taken by a muggle.

On the next page: Nurmengard's location on Austria's map. The dot was glowing only a few minutes' flight of the last known location of Alice Longbottom née Bagshot.

30th October, 1981

Alice managed to not say the taboo name for two days straight, and thus, Lily deemed her to be well enough to get a new wand.

By the time they returned from shopping, the layer of snow grew several spans. Neither witches had seen this much of it before, but according to Grindelwald, not even more would have been unusual so high up in the mountains.

The imprisoned wizard had been restless in his cell. He was walking in circles most of the time, ignoring his only visitor, and on the rare occasions he did acknowledge her presence, he asked about news of the outside world. When Lily asked if he was trying to wear a pit into the cell floor, he mirthlessly replied the cell had been designed more resilient than that.