Beta: Digitize27
Because I like to discuss things, I made a forum for this story. Link in Profile.
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"Even glimpses in Fate are Terrifying." - Dr. Fate, DC Comics
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Luna could smell smoke.
That was normal, she had smelled the smoke, heard the screams, and seen the flames all her life.
Normal for Luna meant a word or phrase could steal her away from her homework, or whoever she was talking to. It left her staring at empty walls for hours on end. Then she would lie. She would say she saw a grumpkin, or a wrackspurt.
It was slang, or a kind of code her father had come up with for when she was stolen. She was just seeing wrackspurts.
At a time, she had told her father her visions, back when they were still dreams that only took her at night. But when she saw the Eiffel tower melting at night, and could hear the sounds of burning city as she lay asleep, she stopped.
She couldn't burden her father with that; a great golden snake of flames swallowing all of Europe whole.
The visions began taking her by day too. Washing her away into the future of a child she passed on the street. Some visions were minor, but if she followed them, if she allowed them to take her, they would always carry her to where Berlin, or Moscow, or Paris was in flames.
That was common. It left people avoiding her for the most part, but it allowed her to hang on when she was otherwise nearly washed away. It was lonely, but lonely was normal for her too.
She really had two illnesses. She was crazy, and she knew that she was crazy.
"Hello Luna," Ginny plopped down next her in the library. Luna let her eyes refocus, away from the portrait of Asimina the Distant which decorated the wall next to her table. "Have you started the potions essay?"
Ginny did not ask why Luna had not gone to Hogsmeade, which was polite of her. It meant that she didn't have to come up with an excuse. The real reason was because Harry would have been there, and thinking of Harry was like stepping into a riptide of future events. A single slip could send her plummeting into fire.
"Oh, not yet." Luna looked down at the table, she didn't even have any of her books open. She opened the one for her Divination class.
Hundreds of pages about opening the inner-eye and not one about closing it.
Ginny settled in to work on her own essay, her cheeks flushed from the cold - or from Harry - and her face was framed by pretty red hair. She had been down in the village having fun with her fellow Gryffindors and talking to him, while Luna sat here alone.
Luna did have some friends, especially if she ignored Harry. She had found a kindred spirit in Ginny Weasley, and why not? They were both ravaged souls. Ginny was often shunned for the misunderstanding in their first year, and Luna was set apart because she was crazy.
They would study together, laugh and joke together. They even lived close enough to one another that they saw each other outside of school during the summer.
That was precious to Luna.
She liked to believe that Ginny also enjoyed their time together; though insecurity always tugged at her that Ginny was doing it out of some sense of pity.
Harry was doing it out of a sense of pity, and guilt, and curiosity. He had another emotion though that made his motivations less bleak.
He empathized with her, even if he didn't know it himself. He empathized with Ginny too. So he pitied her, even if it wasn't quite pity, and it set him apart. It made him a third member of her group of poorly adjusted friends.
It didn't mean that the tide of future event he waded through was less likely to wash her away. The vision she witnessed when she had first seen the Boy-Who-Lived, in particular, followed her. A dark-haired baby girl in a crib. A dead woman at the foot of the cradle and a room full of men with wands drawn and angry, furious, faces.
Harry stood amongst them, taking in the scene. The men set to murder the girl in the bassinet and his eyes flashed. There was silence. Then everyone in the room died, save himself, and the girl.
Sometimes she did have control. She could guide herself to what she wanted to see. Sometimes she didn't and she floated along like she so often did when it came to the subject of Harry Potter. That was standard.
But normal isn't the same as healthy, is it?
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Madam Malachite had come to stay at Beauxbatons. She moved in with a small entourage, and so far no one had been either rude enough, or polite enough, to ask her to leave.
Or perhaps not stupid enough.
The French Ministry overseeing the Tournament had welcomed her, a bandaid over the whole diplomatic incident, according to Daphne.
Harry had written to Grindelwald about the situation.
Azovka Malachite was indeed one of my enemies. The Russians pit her against me. They believed that with the right support, that she could defeat me.
Could she?
With enough help from lesser wizards and witches who were contributing without getting in her way, perhaps.
Harry interpreted that as Grindelwald doubting it.
I don't understand why you are focused on one of my wartime foes.
She's here. I may have killed her daughter.
May have?
I unwound her mind in an attempt to fix a poorly executed memory charm.
Are you linked to this crime?
I'm linked to the memory charm, though I didn't cast it.
You should be wary. I never faced her politically, but she may well excell at it. She certainly had the means, mind, and motive to accrue acumen.
Dumbledore mentioned she could shapeshift and manipulate metal, so I know she is dangerous.
This is not entirely accurate. Her real specialty is precious minerals. Gemstones, gold, even copper and iron.
You should avoid her, especially an outright confrontation. She was one of the few who was able to survive me in a duel, that was when she was young. She is likely more powerful now.
More powerful than yourself or Dumbledore?
Perhaps more powerful than me in my state, now, but unlikely to be more potent than your headmaster.
What willI do if I have to duel her?
Die, in all likelihood.
That's singularly unhelpful.
Since both Grindelwald and Dumbledore seemed to agree that she was bad news, to say the least, Harry did avoid her. She had been welcomed into a guest area on campus that had remained open since the Hogwarts and Durmstrang contingents brought their own housing. Harry dodged that area and common meal times.
Harry had yet to see the woman in question, but he had seen her daughter levitated off the grounds in a green casket along with most of the school. Her eyes were closed and she looked peaceful within the viridescent stone box.
However, he couldn't escape some things. A member of her entourage, a brutal looking man with a large brow and dark hair would often watch the dueling pits when he was there. Harry learned from the minds of those around him that the man was Danilo Prokopich, an ex-auror and who serviced as a personal bodyguard to the copper-lady herself.
Harry flicked his eyes over to study the broad man dressed in dark clothes. There was something green on the man's shoulder.
Harry doubted his appearance was a coincidence.
Further, Durmstrang students seemed to duel more ferociously in the man's presence.
A fifth-year opponent of Harry's had barely bowed before lashing out with a searing curse, and Harry was forced to shield rather than deflect due to his lack of knowledge about the spell. It was well chosen, as Harry had displayed the means to hold back a pyrokinetic veela in a fit so the judge, who was already managing several duels at once, had no reason to step in.
Harry flicked his wand away from the spell he was trying to cast as he was forced to defend himself and hold his shield in place. The boy had learned well from the mistakes of Harry's previous opponents. Once Harry was set up, he could use his powers to attack from multiple angles at once and control the flow of the duel from there.
Harry was forced to give ground, which only let his opponent box him in more.
A bludgeoning curse was followed by a gentler disarming charm, then followed by a curse Harry didn't recognize, but it did have several similarities to diffindo – at least in terms of wand movement. The boy conjured three birds which rushed forward to harass Harry.
It was a cover to allow him to subtly cast the trauma curse, which Harry allowed to make contact.
The inflow of foreign emotions was ignored as Harry set to work in the slight lull.
Harry flicked his wand and sent a series of the orbs of light he had designed outwards. He summoned the mage lights as bright as he was able and pushed them forwards his foe's face. One of the birds punctured Harry's wand hand with its beak and another lunged for his face.
Harry imagined a net of air around each of the birds and they collided with the bars of nitrogen, trapped in invisible cages. It was relatively easy to do with his wand working as a focus rather than his whole body as an antenna.
Harry squeezed the cages closed, both slicing, and crushing through the birds as though he had them trapped in thin wire, pulling until they popped. That was much more difficult, manipulating air to behave like metal was unnatural and costly.
By the time his opponent recovered Harry had regained control of the duel. With a twist of Harry's wand he grabbed the his enemy's hand with the air and burrowed. His enemy dropped his focus and fell down, clutching his skin had peeled off from muscle on the inside of the flesh, like a large blister.
A bit of a Grindelwald trick.
Harry's opponent would have to try harder than that to get noticed by Prokopich.
It was about networking, trying to impress a man who had the ear of the wealthiest witch in Eurasia. She was the wealthiest in the world, really, if she could be bothered to pull more gold from the ground; a bit like Nicholas Flamel in that respect.
He glanced over to where Daphne sat, watching the duel take place. With Harry's pointers Daphne had risen to the fourth-year dueling level, but she was being beaten fairly badly in that rank, while Harry also left that class behind.
"You need to shower again," she informed him as they rendezvoused and began to make their way out of the courtyard.
"I could just use scourgify."
She wrinkled her nose. "It's not the same as actual hygiene, you know."
He smiled at that.
"Harry, I've been meaning to ask you about Hogsmeade." She spoke quieter as they walked, so he nodded for her to continue. "Did you plan all of that?"
"What do you mean?"
"You went to go see Neville and you separated the group to get to him alone," she elaborated. "But did you plan that? Did you know that if you said that to Tracy, she would respond like that?"
"You can never know how people will react."
"You can," she argued, gesturing vaguely at her forehead. "Did you plan that? Manipulate things?"
"I figured that she would do something, you know how excitable she is." He palmed his jaw. "I didn't control her, if that's what you mean."
"But you influenced it. Or you knew what she would do."
"Not really…but yes," he paused to consider how to explain himself. "Watch." He held out his wand in one hand and dropped it into the other. "Did I control where it fell?"
"Yes, you dropped it," she observed the demonstration with a confused expression. "You caused it to move."
"You're right, but all I did was drop it," Harry continued, latching onto her first statement. "It could, technically speaking, have traveled in any infinite number of directions. However, objects tend to fall when released. Gravity moved it, and I predicted where it would end up."
"I see what you mean, but that doesn't mean you didn't plan it." She flicked her hair over shoulder as they walked. "You expected it, allowed it, then caused it to fall. That's what a plan is. You did the same with Tracy."
"By that logic nearly anything could be called manipulation. You talking me right now to get answers could be classified as manipulation. At any rate, what I did to Neville and Tracy wasn't malicious."
She gave a dainty frown as she puzzled through that. "So, just because it's helpful, that makes entering them right?" Harry wasn't sure she whether she was judging his motivations or just trying to identify them. It made him hesitate.
"I think so," He eventually confessed. "Intent matters."
"Of course you would take such a magical philosophy." She smiled softly.
They walked in a comfortable silence for a moment.
"Susan wanted to ask you for some dueling tutoring."
"Hm." Harry humored her with a considering noise.
"She's just too afraid to ask directly," she continued. "She could be a nice ally to have."
"Ally?"
She rolled her eyes. "Yes, ally. An associate, a colleague? Friend?" She teased with a smirk. "Her family holds a place in the wizengamot and has a lot of influence in the legal departments. Plus, their traditional power commands some respect."
Harry frowned. He didn't even know what that last bit meant. What did that give them? "Why would I need any of those things?"
"You don't think Dumbledore has them? How do you think he pushes policies he likes? I thought you wanted that kind of power," she was giving him a confused look.
Harry didn't know much of anything about politics. Or money, really. If Harry needed something in the future, then he could pretty much just take it. One day there would only be three people who could possibly oppose him. Two of them were teaching him, one of whom was rotting in a tower, and the last of them didn't have a body.
"I've never wanted political power."
"You're going to have it anyway." He gave her a confused look. "What? You have a wizengamot seat waiting for you, and you're the Boy-Who-Lived. Realistically you have some of that power now."
"What do you think I should do?" He asked absently. What would Grindelwald do? Well he would probably just take power. What would Dumbledore do? Harry really didn't know. What had Dumbledore done with his political power in the last fifty years?
"Are you actually interested in this?"
Harry wasn't sure. "Maybe. I've always been more of the scholarly type."
"What should I tell Susan?"
Harry wasn't sure what he should go around sharing his knowledge all the time. Not anymore. If she had asked a month ago he would have been more inclined.
"I suppose I'll think about it."
Daphne smirked. "What do you need to make your decision?"
That reaction threw him further off balance than anything in this discussion so far. "I would like to know her motivations. Why me? What she intends to do? That sort of thing."
"You want to read her mind, then?"
Harry considered that. Then he nodded.
"I'll tell her she should ask you herself, then."
Harry stopped walking and stared at Daphne. "What are you doing?"
"What?" She halted under the intensity of his confusion.
"This. This political thing. Helping Susan. You are pushing for it. Why?"
She looked over at the Hogwarts Train and bit her lip. They were alone, close to the meadow where the train coiled around itself.
"Why shouldn't you? She is pretty, you know."
"I doubt that's why you want me around her."
Harry wasn't an idiot and he was a psychic. He knew she felt something for him. He had been in her mind and felt that confusing ball of emotions inside her chest.
Romance, girlfriends, politics, money, they were all the same to Harry. They were foreign, but he also knew that he felt something about her. What would that mean, though? Harry had no interest in dating. Holding hands and going on dates meant nothing to him. Not really.
In the end what would change if they both suddenly decided to be romantically involved?
Harry himself didn't want anything more than her understanding, her companionship, to touch and interact with her unique mind, whether through words or with his magic.
He already had all that.
Maybe she would want to go out and do things, but would that be different from them visiting Cannes or going to Diagon Alley together? She might want to go to the tournament ball together and Harry could see himself learning to dance, if she asked him to.
He had seen relationships where guys were dragged into doing things they didn't want to do. That they said yes to everything and came when called, like a dog.
Harry couldn't see that happening. Daphne respected him too much to treat him like that and he had dreams to pursue.
But if anyone else in the world had asked him to do this, he wouldn't have given it a second thought.
So, what would change?
Maybe everything or, just maybe, nothing at all.
I'm honest enough with myself to admit that I'm ignorant about this.
"You… you know how my family is in a bit of a bind, right?" Harry nodded. She was hesitating. "You having some power, and me being friends with you could help me."
Harry furrowed his brow and said nothing.
"Merlin, saying it like that makes it sound like I'm using you. But you did say you wanted to be like Dumbledore, so I'm also helping you. I don't want you to think badly of me, but I also want this." There was something desperate in that.
It did sound like she was just using him, but that didn't make sense. Not after the last three years, not after she helped him the Dementors or… or any of it.
He was sure their relationship had been beneficial to her, but it had been beneficial to him too. It was symbiotic and trying to break their relationship down into favors cheapened the things which constituted it.
"I'll meet with her." Harry decided at length. She looked at him where before she had avoided eye contact. Her surprised look… stung. It hurt like…
Harry found he had little to compare that pain to.
"Did you think I wouldn't help you?" He asked quietly, wincing internally. That she thought that about him gnawed his insides.
"Sorry," she whispered.
This was hypocritical. He himself had shared almost nothing with her, not because he thought she couldn't help or might refuse, but because he hadn't trusted her. It wasn't quite the same, but it was close. Close enough that it wasn't fair to her to be hurt by that. He shook his head.
"No, no. But you didn't need to do all of this." Harry gestured in the direction they had come from. "Just… in the future, you should know that you can ask me."
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A glance into Susan's eyes was all Harry needed. Her aunt had been a dueling champion at their age, and Susan strongly admired her aunt, wanted to imitate her, even if she herself didn't know it, though Harry suspected that she did.
"Alright, I'll teach you." Harry stood up.
"You will?" Her eyes widened. "Wait, now?"
Daphne gave a small laugh.
"Unless you have something better to do?" Harry continued.
Harry led her out to the clearing to practice, and quickly understood why she had asked for help.
"Protego!" She cried, shielding herself from from a rapid barrage spellfire, three spells splashed against it, a fourth impacted the ground in front of her, throwing up a cloud of dirt.
Her shield was good, that had become clear in the first few moments, but she wasn't moving.
While her vision was obscured Harry had time to set up the field. He conjured water then froze it when it impacted her skin, immobilizing her, before he knocked her down.
"You didn't say he was this brutal," Susan said to Daphne from the ground.
"Uh, yes I did." Daphne was smirking. "I asked you if you were sure you wanted this three or four times."
"Is there anything he can't do?"
Daphne turned towards Harry and he realized she was waiting for him to answer.
"I can't sing," he confessed.
"Really?" Daphne questioned.
He shook his head. "Not a single note."
"I think we're done." Harry noticed the sweat running down Susan's face. "You should practice dodging." He went to tuck his wand into his robes when he felt a mind, an unfamiliar one touch his senses. He turned around.
A woman in high heels was making her way towards the clearing, almost stumbling over the uneven ground. She had her blonde hair tucked in curls around her face, and brightly colored glasses which made Harry's mind jump to Luna, however this woman was taller, and decidedly more middle aged.
"Mr. Potter!" She called to him as she approached. "Mr. Potter," she repeated now that she was closer, extending a slender hand with brightly painted fingernails. "I'm Rita Skeeter, I write for the Daily Prophet. But, of course, you know that, don't you?"
Few people, in all Harry's life had approached him like this. Maybe one; though a comparison to Gilderoy Lockhart didn't do this woman any favors.
Harry shook her hand and looked in her eyes cautiously. To his astonishment he felt shields. He withdrew before she noticed him.
"What can I do for you?"
Her eyes gleamed, though her smile never changed, like her face was plastic.
"Could I ask you a few questions for the Daily Prophet? It will only take a second," she assured after seeing a hint of skepticism, pulling a quill and notepad out a leathery bad. The pair set themselves to levitate near her face.
"Why?" Harry asked.
"Don't be modest Harry, can I call you Harry? Harry Potter, the wizard who defeated You-Know-Who and rose like a star in school, yet no one knows anything about you. You've never been interviewed, near as I can tell, and people want to know the truth about you."
Harry recalled how horrified he felt when Hermione had told him on the train that she knew all about him.
Then he recalled how horrified Hermione had been when she learned some of the truth about him.
"Now, Harry, you've published a masterwork on Dementors, what drew you to study such repulsive creatures?"
Harry blinked. "I haven't written anything that could be described as a 'masterwork.'"
The quill scrawled across parchment for an impossibly long time.
"Would you say the tragedy in your past is what drove you to attack Tanyushka Malachite?"
Harry paused. The quill kept scratching.
"What is that writing?" Harry asked.
"Don't mind the quill, sweetheart."
Oh, I think I will mind the quill.
"How would you say being raised by muggles affected your demeanor?"
"Harry doesn't do interviews." Daphne had strode forward beside him and made to drag him away.
"Oh, aren't you a pretty little thing. Who are you, dear?"
Harry pulled the pad towards him with the air, and the quill tried to stab at him. He brushed it aside with a wave of his hand.
"'Harry Potter's eye candy shrieked-'" he began reading before the pad was snatched away by a red-clawed hand. "What is this?" He asked.
"Rita Skeeter is a sensationalist journalist. She makes everything up," Daphne informed him.
Then why does she bother with interviews?
"She's right. I don't do interviews." Harry gestured and the pad was turned into confetti, though if Daphne was correct then it didn't matter that her notes were gone.
"I cannot believe this, being assaulted by children. My lawyers will hear about this!"
Harry blinked again, if they broke the law then she should have called Aurors, not lawyers.
"Ms. Skeeter." Harry both relaxed and stiffened when he heard the unfamiliar voice. "Perhaps you should return to the campus. I am sure you are very busy writing about the tournament."
The woman's voice spoke clearly and with inflection, yet it sounded as though she were singing.
Harry turned and noticed Danilo Prokopich before his attention was completely stolen from the large, intimidating, and dangerous man. Beside him was a woman, who was perhaps middle aged, though her features gave her a timeless look. Just as she may have been sixty she could have been thirty. She wore a light green dress with golden ribbons which hung around her in the air, giving her a deifying presence.
Oh sh-
Her hair was dark as coal, and her skin was somehow both pale and bronzed. Her features were angular and she wore fine gemstones which hung from her ears by golden cords. On her head was a circlet of gold and emerald, like a metallic and stone flower. The jewelry which clung to her body glowed from the enchantments forged into them, the arcane practically seeping out of them.
Magically speaking, it was as though a depth charge had been set off next to him.
I didn't feel her approach.
She floated closer and Harry felt his family ring shake softly, the precious metals within singing to their mistress.
Harry could see her eyes now, they were the color of molten copper. They had a light to them that Harry had only ever seen in Voldemort's, Dumbledore's, and in the sockets of the man within the Mirror of Erised.
"Off with you, and not a word more," she gave a small gesture in Ms. Skeeter's direction. The movement was small, hardly existent, and dismissive, yet seemed almost magnanimous. As though Rita should feel privileged and honored to have earned so much of the woman's attention.
As suave as Skeeter seemed to be, no amount of charisma mattered now.
Malachite probably wasn't going to kill him, or at least that's what he told himself. Not with witnesses. Unless she was wealthy and powerful enough that she intended to kill all of them and it didn't matter because no one would dare touch her.
This is exactly where Dumbledore hadn't wanted him to be.
Harry found that he couldn't step back, though he wanted to.
He was fairly sure this was how moths felt about flames.
"Now," she turned her attention to him. When had she gotten so close? She could have reached out and touched him. "Mr. Potter, I had very much hoped to talk to you." Her English was cool and entirely accentless.
Harry felt Prokopich step beside him. He tore his eyes away and towards the man.
Occlumency shields.
That was expensive for a hired man. Or perhaps the man was, more concerningly, loyal for reasons other than money.
"I don't think we've met," he addressed her.
She gave a soft ringing laugh, Harry almost swayed in the sound for a heartbeat and realized he was clenching his teeth. "No we have not. I wish to speak to you about my daughter."
She skipped over introductions, towards the matter at hand. Harry could relate to that.
"What do you think about her condition?"
"It's a tragedy," Harry answered.
Harry could feel Prokopich tense nearby.
"Mm," she allowed him a small noise. "My expectation was that you know something about mind magic. I had hoped for a more clinical response." She paced lightly.
What she didn't say was that he would give her one, that he would do best not to let her expectations down.
"I never interacted with her mind, I never saw the damages. Though her total lack of response is indicative."
"My mind healer here spoke similarly…"
Daphne and Susan looked like they were holding their breath. The Earth hummed in time the lady's words and when she trailed off so too did the ground. It was an intimidating effect. Enough so that even though he knew it was happening and that she was doing it to unnerve him, it worked anyway.
She stopped pacing and turned towards Harry. "I dismissed him from my service."
Harry felt cornered in the open field.
"With my daughter's recovery underway-"
Harry thought it was doubtful but the woman spoke with such surety that he almost believed her.
"-and her safety assured, I can begin to find the ones responsible."
He had followed the woman with his eyes and turned his back to Prokopich. The man laid a heavy hand on Harry's shoulder at her words.
The bodyguard jumped at the charge Harry shocked him with, a small reminder, and Harry turned to look the man in the eyes.
Warning. High Voltage.
He turned back towards the Malachite lady, he could see her wand at her waist. A white crystal shaft, it was almost transparent. Along the length and inside a soft golden light flickered.
"My understanding is that Ms. Faere left campus."
"Ms. Faere will be found," she sung. "Though it pains me to pursue my Daughter's friends."
Her tone implied that she should not have to chase them, that they should have come to her and groveled, or thrown themselves on her metaphorical sword.
"Then there is you." Fury slipped into her tone. "I am informed that it was you who suggested such drastic measures." Her voice became cool once again. Her inflections were like a twisting metal edge, spinning through the conversation, rarely cutting, but becoming more jagged as the conversation ran on.
"I don't believe that you will find a court willing to convict me." Unless she owns all of them, which may be true.
She graced him with another laugh. "Indeed, I doubt you can be tried. However, that is not the same as being innocent!"
The last words were almost a snarl. The ground trembled under him and he could hear the Hogwarts Express let out several loud metal screeches.
He almost went for his wand, but knew it wouldn't help him right now. Her bodyguard could kill him, she could kill him. His only saving grace was that Rita Skeeter had seen her with him and, if Harry died, likely wouldn't be able to pass up the story.
"Sometimes it is." Harry was thinking about the Death Eaters who had escaped being convicted as he said it.
She gave a small chuckle, from any other woman it would have been a giggle, but Madam Malachite did not giggle. "Quite right. I expect to see you again, Mr. Potter. Thank you for your time."
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Harry moved immediately towards the Hogwarts Express, ignoring both Susan and Daphne. His compartment was empty so he pulled Daphne's box out of his dresser from beneath his invisibility cloak. He opened it and withdrew Grindelwald's parchment, carefully folded.
I just talked to Madam Malachite. I'm fairly sure she wants to kill me. I need something that can counter her.
There is no single spell that will allow you to defeat her, though I hope that you aren't so foolish as to actually be seriously requesting one. Perhaps my grimoire may be of some assistance.
You wrote a grimoire?
Of course I did.
Harry felt a surge of greed rise inside him, nearly enough to swallow his fear of Azovka Malachite. He wanted that book. Wanted it as much as he wanted to know about Horcruxes.
He considered several responses but they were all… too pleading. Submissive. He racked his mind. How could he ask for it without sounding like he was begging? He was Grindelwald's apprentice of sorts. Wasn't he supposed to receive the spell book of his… teacher?
I'm not calling him my master.
Does this book still exist?
Yes. I know where it and my collection remain.
They haven't been discovered?
You likely would have heard of it, had they been.
Will you tell me where?
I shall. In person.
Harry stiffened and flexed his fingers. He wanted that book, he wanted the collection. As Grindelwald's psuedo-apprentice it belonged to him. Breaking into Nurmengard wouldn't be easy. In fact, it was considered impossible to break both into and out of.
It was as much a work of art as it was a fortress. Each stone held enchantments.
How to get in? How to get past everything? He would have to leave Cannes first, apparate as close as he could. He could probably find it using the memories of German wizards, break into the mind of a high ranking German auror to get the location.
That was just the first part. He would have to sneak in, avoid detection by both guards and wards, and find Grindelwald within.
Do you have a plan for that?
That shall be your task. A solution shall present itself to you, if you follow my instruction.
Harry shook it off. He'd focus on it later, but the hunger in his chest was hard to deny. So far, he had been relying on Grindelwald's memory, and he had gotten far on it, but the former Dark Lord had been stuffed in a tower for half a century.
The thought of getting his hands on the man's notes, his real notes and collection was almost enough to make him salivate. He would kill for it.
That realization shocked him.
I would, in fact, literally kill for it.
He shook it off.
Malachite was his clear and present danger.
How do you defeat a shapeshifter?
You pin them down. Limit their space.
That was pretty good advice, but the entire Earth was Malachite's ally. How could he possibly pin her down?
And if you can't.
They will escape.
This was why she had survived Grindelwald. She could escape.
There was a knock at the door.
"Harry? Are you there?"
He hid the parchment and opened the door.
"Yes."
Daphne breathed and eyed him up and down. "Harry what was that?" She didn't demand it of him, he appreciated that. It was one of those things that always separated her from Hermione.
"Azovka Malachite. She blames me for what happened to her daughter."
"Is she going to have you tried?" She looked at him pleadingly. "I can help with that, I know wizarding law better than you do."
"She won't have my tried, if anything I suspect she'll try and kill me."
Daphne let out a long sigh and shook her head. Harry could smell sweet honey as her hair twisted in time with her head. "You 'suspect?'"
Harry frowned and nodded. "I'm not sure."
"Whenever you say 'I suspect' you're usually right." Her lips were turned up in slight amusement. "Come on, you still need a shower before dinner."
Harry cocked his head. He wasn't a regular at the usual meal times.
"You forgot, didn't you?" She was still giving him a light smile. "Only you would forget. The Goblet is choosing its champions today."
Harry wrinkled his face. "I don't care about the tournament. I'll-"
"-Probably just go to the library?" She finished his sentence with a roll of her eyes. "I should have figured." She stepped backwards out into the corridor. She turned around to leave before she stopped. "Harry?" She faced him again. "I hope that one day you talk to me."
"I do talk to you." Harry spoke almost exclusively to her.
She made a slight exacerbated noise. "I mean about things like this. I want to know. You knew something about Malachite before she showed up just now. You can share that with me. Just-" She hesitated. "It's like you said earlier. You can trust me, Harry."
"I trust you more than anyone."
"That's still not very much." She stepped back in, right up to him until she was looking up at him with her heart shaped face. "Aren't you tired of being alone?"
Harry flinched. The brightness of her face was too much to look at, so he turned his head away.
"You don't have to cut me out, you know that, right?"
Harry nodded. He felt it. The stress of it all. The Horcruxes, the pressure to outshine Dumbledore, Malachite, the Dursley's. All of it.
"I want to show you where I grew up," Harry whispered. "I have for a while now, I think. There are advantages. I hoped that you would tell me how my muggle family died but… I want to show you." He looked at her again. She was still shining.
"Harry you don't need to-"
"-I do want to." He paused. "I really do."
She gave him a less brittle, easier to look at, smile. A more earnest one.
"Thank you."
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"Now, as she lay in the grass watching him, listening to the otherworldly music, she wondered again if he would ever feel for her what she had long felt for him." - Pavel Bazhov, The Malachite Box
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Because I like to discuss things, I made a forum for this story. Link in Profile.
Removed a bad joke that only I thought was funny.
- WG