It was a familiar smell in the air that got Harry's attention. Like ozone and static and iron. Even those that didn't know what it was could sense it. Something very revelatory was going to take place in this cathedral. He could not contain his excitement. There was a drive telling him it should be him up there, facing off with the ancient undesirable. But that would be selfish, and ill-advised. He had brought Mathilda here for a reason, and enhanced her for a purpose. Hermione helped tremendously, and he wished she could enjoy this just as much as he was.
She had her doubts. Hopefully seeing the fruits of their labour would be enough to make her understand.
Dietrich's posture was confident. It was the ease and comfort that came from fighting countless duels. He had met many wizards like him in his time. Old guard, well trained and well read, deriving power from knowledge. Harry had always been more of an intuitive duellist. If you could dodge something, you might as well. Quick reflexes were just as good as a countercurse. He also knew that it was a blind spot, a weakness, one he was trying to overcome.
The red-haired wizard from earlier, who seemed to be some kind of a leader, stepped forward. He put his off-hand between the two contestants, and with a flourish and a step backwards announced the start of the duel. "Draw!"
"Stay close," said Harry, and he brought his hand to the sigil on his shoulder. A cage of wrought iron materialised from the ground to encase the four of them, and settled with a shimmer. On the opposite side of the room, the woman with pointy brass adorning her dress flicked her wand and the stone around them formed into a bunker with windows. Stray spells were all too common in duels, among other things. It was entirely possible the battle would end with the Sanctum in ruins.
Mathilda was lightly circling, trying to find an opening, a weakness, anything in the form or demeanour of her opponent to get an early upper hand. Harry couldn't find anything. The only piece of information that made him curious was that Dietrich's glow in Harry's magical eyes was very muted, and next to the brilliant maelstrom churning around Mathilda's solar plexus, he almost seemed to be dead.
Mathilda started off with a mixed battery of spells: one jinx, one hex and one curse, expelled from her wand. The speed of the offensive magic made it so they would all hit Dietrich within fractions of a second. He did not flinch, and when the spells came closer, he countered each with one fluid wand motion. No mean feat. However, Mathilda was already on the move.
One slow curse from where she stood, and from the left where she moved: two well-placed tripping jinxes. This was Mathilda's opening style, few wizards could even withstand that. Dietrich side-stepped the curse and countered both jinxes with minimal effort.
The duel changed in that instant. Mathilda had lifted a three foot cube of stone from the ground of the cathedral and sent it rolling with a momentum charm. It took considerable concentration to make that happen, and Dietrich responded in kind. He brandished his wand at a pillar, which changed into a hand to grasp the barrelling rock. Her vision was blocked, but Harry could see what Dietrich did next. He drew a circle on the wall behind him with magic and a symbol of complex runes appeared on it. Harry's heart caught in his throat.
A jagged spire of iron shot towards where Mathilda was standing. Gasps came from the gallery on their side. If it were anyone but Mathilda, they would be dead. The spire thunked hard against something. It had embedded itself into a solid golden statue, in the image of Mathilda's duelling stance. From the right, two more quick spells. Dietrich turned to counter. Mathilda had moved already, leaving another golden statue in her wake.
If Harry didn't have his sight, he would be unable to track her movements. The combat apparition mixed with her nimbleness and the statues made her location improbably difficult to pinpoint. Then she did something that caught even him by shock. She animated one of the statues and it started casting spells. He knew that in theory it was possible, to use enough concentration to channel your magic through an animated object, but to do it in the middle of battle like she did took a higher level of expertise.
Between Mathilda herself and her gilded twin, Dietrich was having more and more trouble countering. In an effort to distract her, he transfigured the block of stone she had sent towards him into three dog statues of his own, but they were blasted to pieces before they could ever get a hold of either assailant. Too occupied, he didn't see what she had been preparing. The carefully cast delayed spells above on the cupola.
Neutralising a severing curse, he whirled around to face her. "Check," she said with sly smile, and her wand finished with a complex swish in the air. Instantly, tendrils of living wood sprung from the ceiling, deadly sharp and too quick, coming from all angles. There was nowhere to escape, and no time to get rid of them all. Two of them were blasted away, to no avail. "Mate," she said, the tendrils impaling Dietrich in seven places.
Mathilda let out a satisfied laugh, and turned back to look at Harry, but he was steadily still looking at Dietrich. The dust cleared and he saw still a low glimmer emitted from the impaled body.
"He's still alive!" he shouted.
It was lucky he did, because Mathilda barely avoided the conjured ball and chain coming their direction. It banged hard against the stalwart cage, startling Hermione. The impaled body wrenched itself from its wooden stakes, tearing flesh and muscle from itself without regard. They all looked on in horror, just as surprised as Mathilda, who was looking mouth agape at the man she just killed. Dietrich waved his wand and the torn flesh reformed on him like liquid, leaving him standing as if nothing had happened.
Mathilda laughed lazily and her body slumped. The red-headed wizard was smiling from the other side of the gallery. He could be forgiven for being optimistic. After all, this was when most hit-wizards would give up, faced with something they couldn't even begin to comprehend. Jeffrey had been like that, which is why Oril killed him. Mathilda's boots ground on the stone. She dipped so low it looked like she might fall over. Then, she was gone.
To one statue, and blindingly fast to the other impaled one, which broke off the the iron spire and moved forward. Both animated doubles were now holding barbed iron chains. It was so like her, to turn a trick on her opponent. Moreover, it was magical chain, something impossible to know unless you expected it. Dietrich had started something of a grand transfiguration, morphing the tendrils that impaled him into one great wooden claw. It swiped across the battlefield.
A third golden statue interposed itself and was crushed below the claw. Mathilda had backed away and the two doubles swung their chains, narrowly avoiding the gargantuan appendage. Dietrich did not know or he wouldn't have tried to banish the chain, and move out of the way of the other. Magically, they found his arms and dug into them. Behind him, the glaring glint of Mathilda, only visible to Harry, shone in the darkened alcove. A satisfied sigh filled room.
Two high-powered blasting curses turned the Council's Champion into a rain of bloody giblets. Mathilda was covered head to toe in splatter, but that didn't stop the harlequin smile spreading on her features. There were few things in the world that could match the elation of a hard-fought duel. She must have been feeling perfect in that moment.
Harry, being a good second—or just leader in this case—stepped forward. The cage parted in his wake. If tensions ran high, the rest of them might be looking for blood in recompense. He slowed his pace as he saw the rest of the Council look… puzzled and inquisitive. The woman with the plain dress had walked up to one of the now motionless statues and was inspecting it. The red-haired leader was rubbing his head staring at the carnage. The other two were talking—joking even.
"You're not angry we took out your man?" Harry asked.
"No, well fought," the redhead said. "Just… did you have to make such a bloody mess of it?"
Mathilda had come sauntering over to them looking quite pleased with herself, which prompted the redhead to produce a bowl and look questioningly at his wand. "You can do it yourself, but do you mind collecting the bits of Dietrich on her?"
Harry lifted an eyebrow, but did as he said, and gathered the remains sticking on Mathilda into the bowl. She had a slight cut on her cheek, which he patched up, thumbing over it to see if it was well healed.
"It's been a while since I've seen you that worked up," he said, looking over to Alfred who was rather shell-shocked. "I think you impressed more than our hosts."
"I had help," she said. "Thanks for lookin' out for me."
Satisfied, Harry smiled and looked over to the rest. The red-headed wizard together with two others was gathering Dietrich's remains in a basin. "Uh. They're burying everything?" he asked the girl.
"Oh yes, Dietrich will be back for dinner. Goldie did a number on him."
It was an insane proposition that he would come back with most of him in pieces, but he decided not to push. She was still inspecting the golden statue. "Fool's gold," Harry said.
"So is ours," she said, nodding to the basin. "But still pretty. I'm Marlene."
"Harry Potter."
The basin was brought to a chamber out of view and introductions were made. Dahlia, the woman with the brass on her dress, was Marlene's cousin, not sister. The redhead was Ferdinand. The last one with the olive complexion was Andros. The battle was over, and they were being quite chummy. Marlene seemed to be rather obsessed with Mathilda. All of them were interested in her, which was no surprise after the brilliant duel she just fought.
"We can continue discussion during lunch," Ferdinand said. "You must all be getting hungry."
#
It was quite a turn of events, leaving Harry slightly confused. Still, with a victory on their record, he couldn't be too pessimistic. The other side of the basilica (that's what they called it), led to a path through the jungle, all the way up to a hill where a villa stood. It was quite wizardly with how it seemed to be strung together by magic alone. Strange contraptions were arranged below the awning with something Harry was sure was a rudimentary sneakoscope.
"We're having paiche today. Fish. I hope you like it. Roast pig later for dinner, if you're partial to that."
"Are you ready to discuss what we're here for?" Hermione asked.
"Sorry," said Andros, "but we don't make decisions until Dietrich gets here. We can chat though."
"Dietrich is… your leader?" Harry asked.
"Technically I am," Ferdinand said, "but some things are too important to decide without everyone butting in. Sit. We have wine, water and hot or cold cocoa, with or without chili."
They sat down at the long table, with Hermione on his right and Mathilda on his left. The fish was brought in, oven-baked with a creamy sauce. It was a huge fish, so much that they didn't even have to move the dish around to serve themselves. Again, Harry was startled by the reality that the people in this room might just well do considerable damage to a small country. And they were having lunch and chatting—so far—about what life on and around the continent of Europe was like.
They talked of Hogwarts, of different studies and jobs and foods and clothing… He had a flashback to the awkward dinner at the Greengrass table. He would almost feel better if someone drew their wand. But Mathilda seemed happy, Ginny and Alfred seemed happy and Hermione's appetite seemed to suggest she too was enjoying the comfort of a home-cooked meal. The fish was indeed delicious, and not poisoned, which was good too.
"So you're Aurors?" Ferdinand asked. "'Cept for the Harpy."
"You really don't know much about what goes on outside here, do you?" Alfred said.
"We don't have much cause to," Marlene said. "Also Ferdinand is allergic to reading. I know who you are. Well, except for you." She pointed to Alfred. "But you are an Auror."
"I am," Alfred answered. "So are Harry and Mathilda."
"She outranks you?" Dahlia asked, nodding to Mathilda.
"I do," Mathilda answered, "but Harry and Hermione are the ones who brought us together."
"Greg said he met with the two of you," Andros added. "I'm surprised he brought us wizards and witches worth their salt."
"Did he tell you why we were here?" Hermione asked.
"To make a deal," Ferdinand said. "He said you need good wand arms to do something dangerous."
"In a way," Harry said. "Do you know of Azkaban?"
"The wizard prison that's guarded by Lethifolds?"
"Dementors, but not any more. They were driven out after the war… too cruel."
"You need us to get someone out?" Marlene asked.
"We want to burn it down. The prison and everyone in it."
Ferdinand seemed surprised by this, holding a bite of fish in his mouth. The cousins looked at each other.
"Too much for you to stomach?" Harry asked.
"No," Andros sighed. "Just… not what we expected. Aren't you war heroes?"
Harry shared a look with Hermione. These people definitely weren't too morally just to have many qualms about it, but no doubt they had their own wants.
"I guess negotiations won't start yet," Harry said. "All we can tell you is there will be a time when it's lightly guarded. There will be broom patrols and some wizards—not the best fighters, but we can't cover the entire fortress by ourselves and prevent word getting out. Actually… it might just be four of us coming."
Mathilda tensed for a moment.
Once lunch was over they were all kept waiting. "What do you think?" Ginny had asked him. He told them that as much as Ferdinand called himself leader, the decision would probably rest on Dietrich. After all, the man was somewhat of a horror story among hit-wizards, and it was clear in the way they talked about him that the Council respected him greatly. Andros took out a guitar and started playing. If they hadn't witnessed the duel, things would almost seem peaceful, in a lazy hot-weather kind of way.
Mathilda had gone outside, leaning against a fence overlooking the jungle below with a goblet of wine. More than Hermione's ire, attacking Azkaban was something that would weigh much more heavily on his Auror partner. It wasn't that she disapproved, just that it brought back painful memories. He'd never known Sirius before his incarceration, but the place had a way of changing people.
He walked over to her and leaned beside her on the balcony. It had been a while since they talked. Harry's need for idle chatter had all but disappeared.
"D'you think Bigs would arrest me if 'e knew?" She finished her cup and tossed it in the grass. "I dunno, would I arrest 'im if 'ed gone so far?"
"They respect you," Harry said, "more than, even."
"I know that, but… some things you jes can't look past. I've done things now an' it's not just cause of you. First time I killed someone—two years into training. Blasting curse to the back. Some two bit dealer stuck in a house, couldn't chance it. Thought I would feel bad, y'know, everyone says it is. I just went into work the next day, didn't feel any different."
She laughed, looking into the distance. "Could happen, us getting caught. Not just Aurors out there. Hit-wizards, good ones. Once saw one of them lock a wizard into a snuff box. Brought 'im to Nurmengard for questioning. I'm not going back, for the raid or otherwise."
"That's all right," Harry said. "You've done more than your part already."
"Hm," she hummed. "I bloody hate this country. It's humid and warm."
"I don't think we're moving in," he said, patting her shoulder.
While Alfred and Ginny were sitting on the porch, he went to Hermione. She was waiting for him to finish his conversation.
"She won't be coming to the raid on Azkaban," he said in a low voice.
"I thought so."
He raised an eyebrow in question.
"We talked," she continued, "when you were missing on Christmas. But… I realise there's still a lot about your life I don't know. You were an Auror for five years and all I ever saw was you coordinating with the DMLE. Are you really almost as good as Mathilda?"
"Almost is the difference between life and death in a duel. But yeah, I haven't been sitting on my thumbs all that time."
"I can't do that," she said quietly. "It doesn't bother me, but it's a bit of a shock."
He put an arm around her. "To be fair, she's probably the best duellist in the Ministry."
"That does make me feel better. You did well, bringing her to our side. I should give you more credit where that's concerned."
"You should," he said gleefully. "I got you to put up with my sorry arse didn't I?"
Alfred played a game of wizard's chess with Ferdinand. They passed the time as they could until Dietrich would rise from the dead. Harry was curious, but it was no use debating how or why the Council was so confident about it.
They were having tea when he appeared in the living room of the villa. He looked nothing like when he was fighting in the basilica, his pointed beard sporting a gentle smile.
"Ah!" he exclaimed. "My apologies for the delay. There is my spirited competitor!" He walked towards Mathilda and extended a hand, taking hers and shaking it vigorously. "Good duel, good duel. I dare say it has been some years since I felt the sting of defeat so keenly. Your name? I am Dietrich Spengler."
"Mathilda Greshaw. Pleasure," she said.
"Dinner?"
"Roast pork," Marlene answered.
"Wonderful. One does get tired of fish after a while. Harry Potter, is it? Join me for an aperitif?" He went to a cabinet and took two glasses, filling them with a reddish spirit. "We'll talk outside."
Harry nodded and took the glass from him, walking out and following him to the back of the house, further to an open barn with a drove of pigs inside. "We give them jungle feed mostly," he said. "Nuts and roots, plants. There's this magical fruit that gives them the most exquisite taste."
"You live here?" Harry asked, tasting the bitter drink.
"Not quite," Dietrich said. "This isn't the Sanctum. That place—our home is better protected than any other in the world, I'd wager. This is our guest house."
"How many of you are there?"
"A pertinent question," he said approvingly. "The five of us are but the Council. Many others are looking for… an escape, I suppose is right to say. Living here in exile…" He sighed and moved to fill a feeding trough. "Andros told me on the way over, you need us to help with a siege."
"Something like that. And you'll be the one to make the decision if I'm not mistaken."
"Correct," Dietrich said, eyeing Harry. "I see many similarities between you and young Gellert come to find me in the spring of 1936. The magielos in my country were gearing up for war then, and he made such an interesting proposition. And what is yours, Mr. Potter.?"
"Well, I don't have any grand dreams to sell you, Mr. Spengler. We needed allies and Gregorovitch said you would be willing to help. At the very least, you're hiding. I don't know from who, but that suggests you're looking for allies as well."
Dietrich lifted his finger and motioned upwards. "The Magical Congress has been relentlessly trying to root us out. They believe that because we exist on the same rough longitude they have a duty to fight us, and the magical communities of Brazil and Columbia have of course followed suit. They are too numerous to fight openly, and all my comrades from before have since died. Ever since the end of the war, their eyes have been on us."
Harry wasn't sure which war he was talking about. Dietrich turned towards Harry, a shadow of the spectre he had seen fighting Mathilda showing itself. "If my sources are correct, they have their eyes on you as well."
Harry's jaw tensed at his revelation. "I have the ICW on my tail?"
"No, perish the though!" he laughed. "The Magical Congress has been expanding ever since Grindewald's demise, their tendrils reach far and wide. They were untouched by the chaos in Europe, so they have more means than any other nation. They expand their control like a plague. I believe they employ close to a thousand Aurors by now. Naturally, they feel obliged to put them to use."
"What do they know about us? What do you know?"
"Bits and pieces, Mr. Potter, nothing concrete. The isolation of Britain has worked against them in infiltrating your administration. A toast, to Europa's chauvinistic ideals then!"
Harry raised his glass in turn and pondered his situation. They were not ready for war, open or otherwise. "Do I need to convince you then?"
"For this one favour, I think not. We shall forge our alliance in the heat of battle, and let the pieces fall where they may. Though, I do believe our destinies are entwined. One last thing," he said, turning away from the barn. "The four other members of the Council are kin of my fallen brethren. Raise your wand on them unduly and this alliance is forfeit, to say nothing of the bloodshed that would ensue."
"As long as you're aware it's mutual."
They rejoined the others. Harry was right in his assessment, as Dietrich had confirmed. After a moment of deliberation, they agreed to help with the assault on Azkaban. Roast pork was had, replenishing the energy of the ten assembled witches and wizards. It was becoming obvious that Marlene was an excellent cook, far outstripping the ability of even Mrs. Weasley.
"Your rooms are on the east side of the villa," Ferdinand said. "Feel free to put up as many protective enchantments as you like, we'll do the same."
"Can't we visit the study for a bit?" Dahlia, the cousin with the brass on her dress asked.
"There will be plenty of time for that tomorrow," Dietrich said. "I'm sure our guests are getting tired."
They were exhausted with the time difference, and quickly found their rooms. Harry sat on the bed and took off his shirt. He studied the recently acquired sigil on his left shoulder, a tattoo in red ink matching the shade of the scar on his chest. He put his hand on it and thin metal wire started to weave into the wood of the room and the rooms adjacent belonging to the others.
"You're getting better at using that," Hermione said.
She sat beside him and affectionately traced the lines on his shoulder. He knew she wanted to say so many things, but the cooling evening made her decide differently. Tomorrow, they would learn more of the Council and their strange hospitality.
#
The Council's guest house was a peaceful place, a fact that could easily be forgotten once they started to brag about how many Aurors they had killed. Thankfully most of them were unknown to Harry or their guests. The study contained a small but well-furnished library, which Hermione immediately took note of. Dahlia introduced her to a collection of tomes which illuminated some topics she had been looking to brush up on. Although they weren't light topics at all.
All of them played quidditch quite well, and on Saturday afternoon they got together and played on an improvised court. Andros could very well have entered the league and not be found wanting as a keeper. Really, there wasn't a better way to think of to get more acquainted. Hermione was the only one left out for that, but she did her very best playing as a chaser. The house was shockingly idyllic. It was easy to think how you could lose yourself for years or decades living in a place like this.
The second night, as the unfamiliar starscape extended before his eyes, he wished he could have shown some of those things to others who weren't there any more. He wondered how things would have turned out if his parents weren't dead, or if Sirius hadn't perished in the unnecessary assault on the Department of Mysteries. Perhaps he would be different, perhaps he would even be happier—although he had nothing to complain about with his current situation.
But his own and only real death had taught him otherwise. In time they would be reunited in a way Voldemort could never envision. Dietrich's apparent immortality was but a mirage, and even he, and Hermione would not live forever. He was glad that she followed him outside, and away from the lights of any city for miles. They were illuminated by a moonless sky.
"You don't feel like sleeping?" she asked.
He didn't, especially not that she had come to meet him.
"Hermione…" She looked perfect, her bushy hair slightly matted by the humidity. Now, he wondered why had had been waiting for so long. "I—I've been waiting for this perfect moment, or maybe that perfect place—there are so many I thought would be a good choice. I guess I just didn't know until now, but… that place doesn't exist."
He walked up to her and brushed the clammy hair out of her eyes. "You're just always here, Hermione, always with me. Even when we disagree, or we aren't even near each other." He took her hands and got on his knees, his head so close to her. He took a small velvet box out of his pocket and finally, after months of keeping it on him, opened the lid. Inside were two precious stones, set in two close sockets on top of a ring of gold: once caramel citrine and one glittering emerald.
"Will you please marry me, Hermione Granger, my first and best companion in the world?"
She teetered on her feet, and let out a sigh of pleasure and surprise. In a motion he had dreamed of so many times, but painfully often recently, she lunged at his kneeling form and embraced him very tightly.
"Yes!" She laughed. "Yes, Harry, I will marry you."
#
AN: I had trouble on how to end this chapter, or how to structure it, but I think it came out all right. I think it's better to leave some things to the imagination, and the story is picking up.
Additional tidbit: The word 'muggle' gets often used in the books, and it dawned on me that the word could very well be rooted in the literal 'magielos', meaning 'without magic' in German. It makes sense, there's a lot of German folklore which includes witches, hags, magic, etc… I'm kind of surprised Jo Rowling never expanded on that part of the world, although everything is very Anglocentric in her work. But anyway, I love etymology, and this was a good one (one of my more brilliant ideas, and between us that's saying something) .
