Harry limped up the front steps of Number 12 Grimmauld Place. His leg had stiffened from the effects of a curse he hadn't realized he'd taken in the heat of battle. Each step was laborious, and he grunted as he reached out and pulled open the front door, only to be assaulted by the sound of a circus. Pandemonium had broken out through the darkened halls within.
Tiredly, he glanced over his shoulder to Grindelwald who followed close behind and sighed.
"Freaks, vermin, filthy beasts! Blood traitors running afoul, staining my ancient home! Begone!"
Coming through the doorway, Harry took out his wand and snapped the heavy curtains which covered the portrait of Walburga Black shut. A cloud of dust puffed into the air. Her shrieks were now muffled, shaking the curtains with each vicious outburst, but it did little to dampen the hysteria elsewhere.
Raised voices bounced between the walls in climaxing arguments, and shadowed figures could be seen darting in an aimless panic between rooms. It was as though he'd walked into the turbulence of a storm, but rather than whipping winds, it was anxious whispers and harsh discourse which reached his ears from the shadowy corners of the manor.
It was Dedalus Diggle of all people who noticed him first, breaking from his conversation with Hestia Jones near the staircase. His eyes shot wide like a pair of headlamps, frozen, and his funny little wizard hat toppled to the floor revealing his small, balding head.
With every step Harry took, a new pair of eyes stuck to him. A wave of silence followed in his wake, making its way down the hall, foot by foot, like the creeping edge of the coming tide. The attention was something he was used to, and he kept his eyes forward, focused on the open door to the dining room where he could still hear the sound of shouting.
"We can't just go running in blindly! There's too many risks; making an enemy of the ICW is one of them."
"You're just going to leave him then, are you? What would Dumbledore think of this, Mad Eye."
"Damnit Nymphadora, I don't want the boy dead. But I can't risk the lives of everyone else on some doomed rescue mission."
"You won't have to," said Harry, hobbling in.
The room jumped. Pale faces, fixed with disbelief, stared at him as though he were a ghost. They might just think I am…
A chair scraped to his left, and he looked over to see Fleur running towards him. He fell into her embrace and buried his head into the silvery fields of her hair, feeling the tension leave his body from the slightest hint of lavender which tickled his nose.
Stepping away, he handed back her cloak. Their eyes locked, conveying an unspoken understanding, and she gently squeezed his hand.
"You're back?" It was Moody who spoke up, standing at one end of the table. "How?"
"It was certainly no thanks to you all," Grindelwald said, entering from behind Harry. "What a strange day it is, when I am the one who cares enough for the boy to come to his aid."
Several of those around the table ducked their heads in shame, others did so in fear, but one did not. One stared back with a pair of beady eyes burning with hatred and cheeks swelling to a terrible puce.
"Devils, the both of you," Doge spewed. "There is no place for dark wizards here."
"Say another word, and I will tear the secret from your mind and kick you to the street," Harry threatened, feeling his temper flare.
"You're a curse Potter. A curse that will doom us all," the old man sneered.
The Elder Wand snapped to his hand and thirsted in his grip.
"Stop it! Harry, control yourself," Tonks called out, and he grudgingly listened. "And you!" She rounded on Dodge, the tips of her hair turning a dangerous crimson. "You've been pushing your welcome for some time, so shut your wormy, wrinkled lips or get out."
"Harry, dear… I'm so glad to see you alright."
A voice, gentle, and barely above a whisper cut through the tension in the air. Further down the table, seated next to Charlie, who hovered over her protectively, was Mrs. Weasley. Her eyes were red-rimmed and skin blotchy, and it looked like she hadn't had a proper night's rest in weeks.
"I'm sorry about Arthur, Mrs. Weasley. I wish there is more I can do."
A tremulous quiver took hold of her lip as she smiled back at him, but he noticed the way it dulled when her eyes flicked to Fleur.
Someone coughed awkwardly from the side.
"Yes, I know what happened, despite your best efforts of keeping me in the dark," he said rather sharply to Mad-Eye.
"Who told you?" the ex-Auror asked, while his magical eye pointed accusingly in the direction of Tonks and Fardale.
"The same person who was pushed to turn me in, in the first place," Harry answered.
Bill shrunk further into the corner where he hid.
Mad-Eye grunted and nodded at the table. "Alright then, Potter, let's talk." He stopped and narrowed his gaze before continuing. "But only you."
Harry looked over his shoulder to where Grindelwald stood, imperious in the face of overwhelming disdain. The man had come to save his life when no one else had. It was something he never expected to have happened, yet, surprisingly, was not shocked when it had. He'd treated him dismissively before, but one fact would forever remain unchanged, no matter how much he wished it weren't true: they were partners.
"He stays," said Harry, uncompromising, "and so does Fleur."
"I will not stand for this!" Doge exclaimed, wobbling to his feet, his belly swaying in front of him as he did so. "This Order was not designed to have its secrets passed on to… to criminals, such as these!"
"This Order was set up with the purpose to defeat Voldemort, and it was your petty secret keeping which nearly handed me to him!"
"What of your own secrets?" Moody interjected. "Colluding with dark lords and double-agents."
"Don't try and compare the two, there were reasons behind what I did," Harry defended.
"And there were reasons behind what we did as well!"
Harry stood, breathing heavily through his nose, his fist clenched tightly near his side. He felt Fleur step closer to him, pressing against him nearly, her presence enough to cool some of the anger flowing hot through his veins.
"You won't win this war without me…" he eventually said, taking a brief pause before continuing carefully, "and if there's any hope in taking down Voldemort, I'll need you too. We need to work together. No more hiding. No more fighting. We nearly lost everything today, and that can't happen again."
Stepping forward from where he'd been calmly watching until now, Kingsley looked to Harry and said, "It sounds like you have some sort of a plan."
"I do." Harry nodded. "It was one Dumbledore had started and left to me to see through. I can tell you about it if you'd like to listen."
The room sat in a firm silence, but beneath its surface bubbled an eagerness and anticipation which listened in with pricked ears. Harry took a seat at the table and noted the way the air in the room was held in a collective breath.
Decided on what he was going to say, he swallowed, knowing a difficult conversation was to follow.
"There were things Dumbledore and I were researching related to Voldemort's past. Things that could help us defeat him," he said.
"What things?" Kingsley pressed with interest.
A short smile wound its way onto Harry's face.
"You could call it a weapon of sorts."
"Don't get smart with us, Potter," growled Moody. "What are they?"
"I can't tell you," said Harry simply.
A clamor of voices rushed out in objection.
"What happened to not keeping any secrets!" Mad-Eye's voice climbed higher than the rest.
Harry lowered his head, attempting to conceal his frustration. If only they would just listen, he cursed to himself, figuring it was best to wait out the wave of their displeasure.
"Who would like to know what it is?" A cold voice cut in, and Harry looked up. Grindelwald was peering around the room dangerously—a predator on the hunt. "Would you?"
The grey-blue of Grindelwald's eyes flashed like daggers, before settling, and staring through Doge, his prey.
"Of course," the plump wizard sputtered uncomfortably.
"Excellent. Then I shall tell you, and we will see just how long you can keep me from breaching your mind and ripping from it the truth, along with all your life's memories. I'm sure you have a number of pleasant ones with Albus stored away somewhere." Grindelwald's smile sharpened with every shade Doge whitened. "Would now be suitable, or would you prefer another time?"
"A-an-another time, p-please…" Doge stuttered.
"Anyone else?" Grindelwald asked, with no reply. "Good."
No one quite knew what to say next, their expressions twisted in alarm, so Harry looked to pick up where he had left off and save anyone else from stumbling into the focus of Grindelwald's ire.
"They are weapons," he continued. "As dangerous as they are for Voldemort, they're even more dangerous for us if he finds out we're looking for them. I can't tell you any more than that without taking too much of a risk."
"Not as much of a risk as having him know?" Moody pointed a gnarled finger at Grindelwald. "I suppose he's just an angel now, reformed from his years locked away."
"Dumbledore had already entrusted Grindelwald with that knowledge before I even met him," replied Harry, to the audible surprise of many.
"What about her?"
It was Charlie who spoke out now, glaring across the table at Fleur.
"What about her?" Harry asked.
"How can you trust a single thing about her after what she did."
It wasn't only Charlie, or even Mrs. Weasley, whose distrust was plain to see, but almost the entirety of the assembled Order. He understood their misgivings better than anyone, felt the wound of her betrayal raw and weeping until time had healed it over with its forgiving touch; but still a surge of outrage shot through him.
"I would trust Fleur with my life," he said.
"At one point, a lot of us thought the same thing…" Charlie sounded almost sad, but the thick frown he wore was anything but.
Harry opened his mouth to argue but was stilled by a hand coming to rest on his shoulder.
"There is nothing I can do to make up for how you were wronged. I can only apologize," said Fleur, tilting her chin and straightening her posture. "This is not a pleasant experience for me either, or one I particularly wished upon myself to live, but I did not have to come back, I chose to."
"To spy on us again probably," Charlie muttered bitterly beneath his breath.
Fleur ignored him.
"You can hate me if you wish, look at me in disgust, spit at my name if it makes you sleep better at night; but I will not let any harm come to 'Arry. Once this war is finished, you will never have to see me again. I do not plan on staying in this country any longer than I must."
"None of us need to be friends," Harry took over, speaking to the room. "I don't expect us to be, I'm not sure it's even possible after some of the things that have happened. I'm just trying to help you trust me again—and if not me, then trust Dumbledore."
A sudden weariness came over him. After fighting for so long on so many fronts, he wasn't sure he could endure dancing around conflict on the same side of the war any longer. It was a special kind of torture, when the people you care most about, those you've risked your life and sacrificed to protect, are the ones checking over their shoulders, afraid of what you've become.
"What is it you want from us, Harry?" Kingsley asked. There was a softness to his dark eyes—a wanting to understand. "You've told us about these… weapons, but you won't say what they are or what they do. How can we help you if that's the case?"
"I want you to keep doing the same work you've always done, while I work on finishing what Dumbledore started. That is what's most important right now," he said. "I'm telling you this, because I don't want you to be surprised by what I do anymore. I want you to be prepared, to understand."
"And what is it you plan on doing?" Kingsley raised a careful eyebrow.
"Those things Dumbledore and I were searching for, one is being kept in Gringotts, and I think I might be able to find where another is at Hogwarts."
"That's madness!" Doge cried out, while Mrs. Weasley reached out desperately and shouted, just as shrill, "You can't!"
"I have to," said Harry, folding his arms, resolute.
"It's suicide," said Mad-Eye.
"It's not. Not with the right preparation—not if I have the right people behind me." He looked about the room meaningfully, meeting and holding the gaze of every individual around the table.
"Harry, getting into either of those places is nigh on impossible," warned Tonks.
"I have a way into Hogwarts," he said, bending the truth. He was counting on Everard getting back to him as soon as possible. "Fleur is working on a way to reach the goblins and get us into the bank. It'll be difficult to pull off, but not impossible."
"And what mission do you have planned after that?" Mad-Eye cut in derisively.
"We attack," said Harry. In the hollow silence which ensued after his statement, he could feel every eye in the room fall upon him and widen, incredulous. "He'll be at his most vulnerable then. There won't be a better time," he finished.
"I have sat here long enough entertaining the delusions of this boy," announced Elphias. He spun on Harry and walked towards him, shaking a fat finger that better resembled a sausage. "You will not force your crazed ideas on us."
Harry didn't so much as flinch at the spittle which rained down upon him. "I'm not forcing anything. I'm just telling you the best way we can end this war for good." He paused for a moment before peering back up at the enraged man. "I swear to you, I admired him as much as you did."
Doge took a step back, disarmed by the softness of his voice. There was no question over who he was.
"Everything I've done has been through his design," he continued. "Deep down, I think you already know this. I would never do anything to jeopardize what he dedicated his life to. I hope you consider that before the next time you try to set me up."
Opening and closing his mouth, Doge's lips flapped wordlessly. His face burned a ghastly red, and his eyes darted skittishly around the heavy stares now focused on him. "I… I don't know what you're talking about…"
"Poisonous words don't whisper themselves, and mysterious offers don't appear from thin air," Harry said with an edge. He could feel the old man withering beneath his stare. "There was a rat in this Order once before, and people died as a result. I won't let that happen again, remember that."
Beads of perspiration dotted over Doge's face, before slithering down the sagging skin of his neck in runny streaks. Pulling at his collar, he huffed and puffed and struggled to breath.
From the corner of the room, Bill's head perked with great interest, and his eyes shifted keenly towards Doge.
"I—er—think I might, uh, excuse myself a moment," said Doge, stammering in a panic. He stepped forward and halted, nearly tripping over his own feet while doing so. Backing away, he chose to waddle the long way around the dining room table, avoiding both Harry and Grindelwald.
"I would watch him," said Harry, seconds after Doge slipped from the room and into the darkened hallway.
"We will," Tonks said, gesturing to Heath next to her. An almost evil smirk grew on her lips. "Personally," she added.
He turned to face Moody and Kingsley at the head of the table. "Will you work with me then?" he asked straightly.
There was a prolonged silence, almost as if Harry could see his question float through the air and land gently on their ears.
Mad-Eye scowled, the scars of his face scrunching into an ugly mask of thought, but it was Kingsley who cleared his throat after a time and spoke.
"If Dumbledore truly believed these weapons can defeat Voldemort, and if you really think you can get them this way, then we will support you," he said, watching Harry carefully. The seriousness of his expression betrayed nothing, but there was a sincerity to his words.
"Brilliant," said Harry, feeling a rush of relief.
"However, before any action can be taken, it must be discussed amongst the Order," Kingsley added hastily. "Your special brand of unchecked chaos only stokes the danger we already face."
"Of course, I didn't expect any less." Harry laughed. "The only trouble I intend to cause now is reserved for Voldemort."
He thought he saw the edge of Kingsley's lip quirk upwards.
Leaning back in his chair, Harry's leg twitched painfully. It felt as stiff as a board, and when he tried to shift it, a fresh wave sent him grimacing. Exhaustion hung heavy over him as well, the feeling sneaking up and clamping suddenly on his joints, bringing with it an ache to his arms and abdomen and anywhere else his mind could perceive.
"Do you think we might be able to continue this tomorrow?" Harry suggested, rubbing sheepishly at the back of his head. "I was hoping for a bit of a rest after—well, you know…"
"I think that would be a good idea," Kingsley agreed.
"Wait!" Moody barked before the room could begin to clear. "What happened there today?"
"Mad-Eye, just let him—"
"Quiet, Tonks," he silenced sharply. "It's why we're all here, isn't it? It needs to be mentioned."
Harry sighed, but complied.
"Krum came after me in Hogsmeade, hoping to set a trap," explained Harry. "The Ministry showed up as well—except it wasn't really the Ministry at all, but Death Eaters. Krum made a deal with them; if they helped him catch Grindelwald, he'd leave me for them."
"Death Eaters, you're sure?" questioned Mad-Eye.
Harry nodded. "They were with a wizard called Yaxley."
Mad-Eye tensed from across the table, his good eye darkening into a pit. "He's a Death Eater alright, he took part in the first Ministry coup which failed. It's a good thing we weren't planning on making nice with the ICW. Looks like we'll have to do it all ourselves as always. Glad to have you back onside, Potter," he grunted, pulling his flask from his coat and standing.
"Does this mean we're done?" Tonks asked loudly with relief. "I'm starving! I haven't eaten anything yet today, and I'm sure that's not a good thing for the—" she stopped herself, looking around awkwardly "—for, uh… for my mood."
Harry could see Fardale snickering behind a covered hand.
"If anyone would like, I'm sure I could whip something together quickly?" Mrs. Weasley offered. Some color had returned to her pallid complexion. "It's been some time since I've had mouths to feed."
"That would be lovely, Molly," Fardale said with a warm smile.
Very quickly, the Order began to disperse, its members falling into more ordinary conversation, and their voices painting a path towards the front of the house and the kitchen. Harry was about to stand himself, when he noticed Bill eyeing him from the corner of the room. Tonks and Heath looked to him as well, but he waved them on with a silent assurance to speak to them later. Instead, he waited patiently at the table as the straggling members languidly vacated the meeting room.
With the others now gone, Bill stood and approached them cautiously. He kept his attention on Harry, but every few seconds his eyes would dart to Fleur before flicking away, an ache poorly concealed in their shallow depths. He fiddled with a loose thread on his sleeve not saying anything at first.
"Earlier, what you said to Elphias, is it…" he trailed off, unfinished, his mind very much consumed with something. "Do you really think that's what happened? That he—"
"I do," answered Harry, knowing what was to be asked.
In truth, he hadn't been sure at first, it being nothing more than the tiniest of inklings scratching at the back of his mind, born of a prejudice and paranoia; but after he'd voiced it and seen how the man reacted, he was certain.
Bill nodded shortly, his features stiffening into stone. "I want to help," he said determinedly.
"Bill, you only just tried to turn me in earlier today," Harry pointed out.
The red head flinched but pressed on. Harry could see where Ron's stubbornness came from.
"I'm not trying to win you over or anything. I don't expect you to forgive me."
"No?"
"No. I don't think you can, which is fine. But I want to make things right, and I think I can be useful in whatever you're planning to do in Gringotts."
Harry looked over to Fleur, unsure. It was difficult to tell what she was thinking beneath her comely mask. This man had been her fiancé, however loose a term it was to describe what had happened, and now he was here forced back into her life. A part of him selfishly wished she would say no, and they could move on.
"Until I hear back from the Goblins, I cannot say what we will need for certain," she said neutrally. "But your offer is appreciated, William."
"That's fair," said Bill with a slight frown. He looked as though he'd been hoping they would agree.
"You were right, by the way," Harry said as Bill was about to leave, "I can't forgive you." He considered him for a moment, thinking on his next words. "But I think we can move forward from what happened. Afterall, if I can't do it myself, I can't expect you all to try for me."
"How very touching," said Grindelwald, breaking the peace which had fallen over the room after Bill's departure. Voices could still be heard in other parts of the home, and the scent of food wafted alluringly through the main floor, but only the three of them remained now.
Loping around the length of the table, stretching his legs, Grindelwald looked to Harry expectantly. When nothing was said, he ran an exasperated hand over his closely shaven head.
"Well, will there be introductions made any time soon, or will you continue to stand there like some uncouth boor?"
"Oh, er, this is Fleur," Harry said clumsily.
"Fleur Delacour," she introduced with a polite smile.
"Enchanté." He gave a grandiose bow. "Gellert Grindelwald. I've anticipated our meeting for quite some time. Unfortunately, Harry has been rather reticent on the idea."
"I heard you'd made a vacation in Provence during the summer, that is where I grew up," Fleur commented knowingly. "It is a shame we couldn't have met then, while Harry was staying with my family."
"Ah, yes, a shame. You see, allegiances can be a tricky thing at times, and one can never be so sure of the company they are meeting." Grindelwald's smile widened. "But I have a fondness for the south of France, as well as its people, perhaps I will make a point of visiting when this is all over. Maybe for the wedding."
Fleur laughed, but it was touched with discomfort. Harry could tell she wasn't used to the man's off-putting presence, but then again, he realized quickly, no one was except for him.
"Enough of that," he cut in, feeling a hint of irritation slip in through the pain in his leg. "I wanted to talk to you both about something important."
"What is it, 'Arry?"
"It's about the plan."
"And what of it?" asked Grindelwald.
"It's half-baked and tenuous at best," he said, frankly.
Grindelwald laughed. "I wouldn't have imagined it any other way."
"That's not what bothers me though," Harry continued. "Breaking into Hogwarts and getting the cup from Gringotts is all well and good, I've done more dangerous things than that before. It's what we do after. At some point Voldemort will catch on."
"But by then we'll have destroyed most of his Horcruxes," said Fleur.
"Yes, but there's still him." Harry felt something squirm in the pit of his stomach. "I'm no match for him, I know that, even with the wand."
Grindelwald watched as his hand crept closer to his side, seeking the pleasing burn of its wood. Lingering, the old wizard's grey-blue eyes eventually looked back to his face.
"This Voldemort cannot hope to face off against the both of us," Grindelwald scoffed.
Harry didn't respond, rubbing at the scar along his jaw too deep in thought. "I don't know," he finally said. "Either must die at the hand of the other is what the prophecy says. It makes it seem like it will be me alone."
"You won't be alone," Fleur refuted passionately.
"I hope not," he said with a sad smile. Reaching into his mokeskin pouch he pulled out a small slip of parchment which had once sat in the oaken box Dumbledore had bequeathed to him in his office.
A stone of life, a wand of death, a cloak of truth.
Look to the story. The answer lies in destruction.
He read the loops of the handwriting over and over, but an answer never did appear. Even in the seconds they'd spent together in the space between worlds, Dumbledore had told him to look to the story of the Three Brothers.
What was it about a children's fable that would save his life from a certain death?
If he closed his eyes, he was almost sure he would see Dumbledore's likeness twinkling back at him with a secret hidden just beyond sight.
He had the wand, and it made him powerful, but the wand had lost before in spite of its origin. Its history was bathed in the blood of defeat, and there was no certainty his wouldn't be the next to be spilt in its name.
A stone of life, a wand of death, a cloak of truth…
The words repeated again in his mind, circling and torturing and teasing. His fate was wound within these words—Dumbledore's words; and looking to Fleur in front of him, having yearned for a future, something beyond this current life, he was reminded in a whisper of Dumbledore's other words, his last ones. He was reminded that if he failed, that if this power Voldemort knew not alluded him, then everything he'd done would be all for naught.
AN:
I hope you all enjoyed this latest chapter! I'm already working on the next one, so it should be out fairly soon.
Thank you for the great response on the last chapter as well, I'm glad so many of you enjoyed it given how much I toiled over it.
As always, please leave me your thoughts and feelings on this chapter. Your reviews, PMs, and feedback are a great motivation to me. Thanks.