A/N : You already know what I'm going to say - after all, you've already read it 23 times - so I'll just pass and let you read the chapter.

July 1944 - Berlin, Germany

Some classical music filled the air, but was not loud enough to cover the noise of the crowd, which was big enough to prove that the obscure German officer who was giving this party must have invited half of the officers currently living in Berlin. Most people were just speaking quietly together, but the combined sound of all these conversations produced a loud buzz. Almost all of the guests were in uniform, and Tom was no exception, as he was currently pretending to be Rommel's aide - Aldinger had duly been sent to Düsseldorf to make pointless arrangements, so he was convienently not there to protest. Rommel himself was currently debriefing in the presence of some of the highest-ranking officials in the Third Reich, who needed to know about the situation in France - which definition convieniently did not include von Stauffenberg, whose duties lied elsewhere. Tom was glad enough not to be in the Feldmarshall's shoes, even if his own job was almost as dangerous as a meeting with Grindelwald.

He scanned the crowd discreetly. Fortunately, he was rather inconspicuous ; who would pay attention to a young lieutenant lost in a crowd of generals and other field marshalls ? Besides, Tom's existence itself was quite unofficial, so no one had any reason to approach him.

Eventually, he located the man he was looking for. It was not that difficult, as said man was rather easy to notice, courtesy of his extended injuries. How could a man suffer such wounds and still be smiling and willing to make public appearances was beyond Tom, but he had to grudgingly admit he did admire the man for that courage. More than that, Stauffenberg's attitude made his wounds seem as if they were irrelevant, trivials. If he himself did not bestow any extent upon these injuries, then other people had no reason to. Yes, that was the kind of man Tom would expect to hit back at Grindelwald.

Stauffenberg was currently speaking pleasantly with two other officers, another general and a colonel - or rather, the poor colonel was stuck between his two superiors and could hardly take part in the talk. Stauffenberg was of average height, with short brown hair and one deep dark chestnut eye. He did not miss a thing around him, although his right eye was covered by a dark patch ; but his left was filled with an inner knowledge of what pain could inflict, and some early pain-agony-induced wrinkles were visible around his eyes and on his forehead. That made him look a little scary, and he obviously knew it. Of course, he could have had his eye replaced by a magic one, since he was a wizard (who else could try to kill Grindelwald and seriously have a go at it ?) ; but in his line of work it was difficult, as he was constantly surrounded by muggles. Maybe he had one, hidden behind this eyepatch, the teen mused. As the general lifted his glass, that he held in his left hand, Tom also noticed that he had only three fingers left. As for his right arm, it abruptly ended below his elbow, and his sleeve was pinned up so as not to hang down wildly.

Tom had left the briefcase in which the bomb was hidden in the cloakroom, but now he needed to let it know to Stauffenberg so the otger wizard could pick it up. That did not sound half as difficult as it actually was, because they were in a room full of loyal Germans, and one slip-up would be their death-warrant. If it happened, even Rommel's protection would not suffice to keep Tom out of harm's way. Actually, trying to help him in that case would be likely to be the end of the Feldmarschall, though his already existing link with Tom would be enough, should it be proved ; and Aldinger's mere testimony that Tom had been in Africa would be more than sufficient for Grindelwald to order a firing squad.

Fortunately, Tom had already given the situation some thoughts, and his little scheme was ready, assuming the most simple ideas were the most likely to work as well. Thus, he approached Stauffenberg in his best military manner, without even trying to hide his features, and clicked his heels in front of the man, before saluting sharply. The good thing with uniforms was that when one was wearing them, nobody would pay any attention to his face. They would label him as a captain, or as a major, or, in the current case, as a lieutenant, and leave it as that. If the two other officers currently speaking with Stauffenberg were asked to portray that unknown lieutenant, Tom was willing to bet they could not even remember his hair color. Well, actually he was laying a bet on it, with his life in token of his certainty.

"General Stauffenberg", he said blankly, "a phone call for you, sir. If you will follow me..."

The German officer looked slightly surprised, then shrugged and excused himself to the two others, before signalling to Tom he was following him. The teen held back a satisfied grin, as everything was going as planned, and led the other wizard to a room he had previously located, which was empty but in which there was a phone - just in case someone would happen to stumble inside the room.

Stauffenberg picked the phone, and it took him mere seconds to realize there was no one at the other end of the wire. His reactions were impressive for their swiftness, and he had his wand at the ready, aimed at Tom, in no time. The teen did not bother to draw his own wand, confident enough in his abilities to dodge any spell the German would cast him should the need arise. His confidence and calm demeanor put the older man slightly off balance, and finally, as nothing happened, he spoke quietly.

"What is the meaning of this ?"

"It's not a trap, if that's what you think", Tom replied, careful not to move too bluntly ; he did not care to be hit by a curse.

"Now that you've told me what it is not, I'd like to know what it actually is", Stauffenberg stated with a hint of humor, though he kept his wand warily directed towards the teen.

"I'm here making a favor to a mutual friend of ours", Tom informed him as he lazily leant back against the wall. "I think you must remember him. He likes lemon drops."

Hearing that, Stauffenberg slackened a little, but did not look totally convinced ; Tom could hardly blame him, knowing how much risks he was taking. Besides, Dumbledore's liking of sweets, and especially those with a lemon taste, was not exactly the best kept of informations ; it was an open secret.

"If that's true, then you should be able to tell me the password", Stauffenberg said casually, while eyeing the teen closely.

"Password ?" Tom repeated, baffled. "What password ? No one told me anything about a password !"

Oh, he was going to kill Dumbledore - if he survived this predicament, of course. If he didn't, he would haunt that bastard for the rest of his life, and even after.

"Look, the mere fact that I know about your little conspiracy should make it obvious that we're on the same side. Otherwise, I wouldn't bother, frankly, I'd just have you arrested and shot", he finally blurted out snappishly.

"It's all right", Stauffenberg suddenly had a half smile, "there isn't any password. I just wanted to make sure. Are you certain no one can hear us ?"

"I checked the room before luring you here", the teen reassured him, not without glaring at him for that "what-is-the-password" nonsense. "Anyway, let's make it quick - we wouldn't want your friends in the salon to worry, would we ? Besides, it will be short. There is a briefcase in the cloakroom. Number thirty-eight. Don't forget it when you leave, 'cause I had a hard time bringing it here in the first place. The bomb is easy enough to activate. If you have a look at the clasp, you'll find the switch within easy reach. Then, you'll have a fifteen minutes delay before everything blows up."

Tom tossed Stauffenberg a plastic token with the number thirty-eight written on it, and the man caught it deftly in spite of his lack of fingers. Absorbing the information he looked thoughtfully at the younger wizard, as if trying to figure something out.

"Who are you ?" he finally asked. "When I asked London to help me, I didn't think... well, I knew some of my fellow officers have the same doubts as I, and I just thought the bomb would be sent to me through them..."

Obviously, he had second-thoughts whether to trust Tom or not, and the teen refrained a need to roll his eyes ; it was too undignified.

"It would have been a little too blatant, now, wouldn't it ? My name is irrelevant. If you want to know, one of your fellow officers is involved in this getting-a-bomb-to-Germany affair, and I'm telling you this only because I went through too much trouble to actually give you that chance for you to muck it up for the mere reason you don't trust me. And you did not even hear that last sentence."

"I get the point", Stauffenberg finally said. "In any case, I don't have a choice. I'm already involved in this, for the better or for the worse, so I guess I will just have to carry on whether you are trustworthy or not - I suppose I will know that in a few days. But should I survive this, I'd like to know your name, and his."

"If you do survive, I'll gladly oblige you", Tom shrugged. "And I do hope you manage to pull that out. Well, good luck, I think I should go now. By the way, should anyone ask, the phone call was general Hesse's - he'll back up your story if need be. He asked you to have a copy of your last report on the situation of the Russian front sent to his office, because the original was mislaid."

"Understood", the German general nodded. "I see you organized this meeting carefully."

"I'm a little too young to die, thank you very much", Tom grunted. "It was a pleasure getting to know you, but I need to go. You should leave in a few minutes - leave me enough time to disappear."

Tom had already reached the door when he suspended his move and turned once again towards the man.

"Oh, by the way..."

"Yes ?" Stauffenberg curiously tilted his head.

"Maybe you did not do much with your ten fingers when you had them. But what you're going to do with the three last makes up for it."

The German general cast him an astounded glance, then couldn't help but laugh heartily. When Tom closed the door behind him, he was still laughing.

Having no interest whatsoever in the party, and now that he had done what he had come to do, Tom left the place without a tinge of regret. He made his way back quickly to the hotel where he and Rommel had booked in, and, drawing his key, he opened the door of their room, relishing the idea of having some quiet after this promiscuity he had had to suffer. He hated crowds. If ever he had to make public appearances, he would make sure everyone stayed at least one meter away from him, and preferably two.

Yet, his wish for privacy was not to be granted that night, for he found out Rommel was already back and had collapsed in a chair, his blond hair tousled and his feature betraying exhaustion.

"Lights !" he croaked painfully, closing his eyes, as Tom found the switch.

The teen settled for switching on only the bedside lamp, which diffused only a flood-lighting, leaving the room in mid-darkness. From the look of it, his fellow wizard had a tremondous headache, and the teen cringed in sympathy.

"I assume your meeting with Grindelwald did not go well", he said mildly, while finding himself a seat.

"Not at all, I spent a wonderful evening", the Feldmarschal groaned hoarsely, not without mockery. "He did not like my report."

"Told you you'd better lie to him", Tom pointed out.

"I did", came the terse reply. "But even then, the news were bad enough."

"I thought Grindelwald did not like to resort to physical pain", the teen mused.

"He doesn't. But Himmler does, and Grindelwald was in a bad mood enough not to prevent his minions from... soothing their nerves."

"I'm selfishly glad I was not in your shoes", Tom smiled.

"I don't doubt it", Rommel sniggered dryly. "So, I gather your evening was better than mine."

"It went all right", the teen shrugged. "I spoke with you-know-who, and he has the you-know-what. I hope he succeeds", he added truthfully. "I rather liked the guy."

"Yes, he's a little weird sometimes, but he's a nice fellow when you get to know him", Rommel agreed. "Though we were never really close. But, frankly, I'm not sure if he really has any chance to succeed. This plot could really have been better prepared."

"They've not been caught yet, so it's not hopeless, I suppose", Tom sighed. "I wonder when he's going to hit."

"In three days, most likely" his blond friend informed him absent-mindedly. "No, I'm not in the Gods's secret, but I can add two and two. There will be a big meeting in the Wolf's Den, and Grindelwald will be present. That's a perfect occasion, and the icing on the cake is that no civilian lives will be at stake, though this regard is secondary."

"What if Grindelwald is only injured ? I mean, it would be a perfect occasion to strike him down once and for all, and it will go to waste if you-know-who leaves before the you-know-what blows up..." Tom stared ruefully at the ceiling.

"I gave it some thought", Rommel said quietly as he straightened up, wincing as it induced a stabbing pain in all of his muscles. "But it all depends on how truly, deeply insane we both are. Or maybe on how much we want to stop this madness..."

Tom cast him a sharp look.

"Could you get straight to the point ?" he already suspected what his fellow wizard had in mind, but he wanted to hear it from him.

"Hmm, well, that's quite simple. If we want to make sure we're rid of Grindelwald once and for all, then we have to go to that meeting and witness his downfall."

"I knew it. I just knew it." Tom closed his eyes and leant back in his armchair. "Do you realize just how incredibly dangerous it is ? With a meeting of such importance, the Gezaupo will be crawling around..."

"Calm down", Rommel cut him in a soothing tone. "In that regard, Grindelwald's paranoia will save us. He doesn't trust the Gezaupo all that much, and no one below the rank of general knows about this meeting. The few trusted men that will attend as security will be busy enough with the explosion if they're not killed or injured, and it's not as if we were going to launch a full-scale attack."

"I don't know", Tom said, pursing his lips.

Yet, it was tempting. He could already imagine himself being the one who had terminated Grindelwald. The fame, and power that always came with it... the opportunity to try his skills and dueling ability against a very strong dark wizard... His lust for power nagged at him temptingly, dangling the countless possibilities such a fight, should Grindelwald survive the explosion, might give him.

"If we remain hidden... maybe just checking to make sure would be reasonable..." he murmured mildly.

The more he considered the idea, the more he was tempted to do it, even though his rational self told him forcefully he would regret that decision if something went wrong. Yet, no going was beginning to seem unthinkable.

"Then it's settled", Rommel said without a hint of satisfaction at convincing the younger wizard.

"I'll hold you personnally responsible if we don't make it", Tom muttered. "And I'll make a hell of your -"

"- death", the blond wizard completed. "If anything goes wrong, I don't think we'll have any time to retaliate, so get over it. I'm not compelling you to do anything you don't want."

"I know", Tom said grimly. "I still need to find someone to blame for this whole situation."

"What about that Dumbledore fellow ?" Rommel suggested with amusement.

"Agreed", Tom sniggered. "I already have a few bones to pick with him anyway."

He yawned, and checked his watch. He was not surprised when he realized it was already eleven in the evening, and the day had been trying.

"Yes, time to have some sleep" the Feldmarschal nodded.

He tried to rise, and took in a sharp breath as a stab of pain almost made him retch. He blurted out a hiss of pain, and, gasping for breath, he might have fallen if Tom had not advanced to help him to the bed. The teen considered the crumpled figure lying on the bed with mild sympathy.

"What curses did he use ?" he queried.

"The mind-burning curse, the muscle-twisting one, and a few others I don't even recognized", came the hushed reply, and the British wizard winced. These were no gentle magic.

Fortunately, although the pain was probably tremendous, there was no open wound, so Rommel's life was probably not in danger. Himmler had had the common sense to curb his killer instincts, which proved at least that the blond wizard was still in Grindelwald's favor. But as soon as this protection would wear off, he would have to fear the Reichführer's enmity.

Reconing there was not much he could do, Tom decided to just let his friend rest, and he switched off the lights as he left the room to make it to his own bed.

Ending Note : A few words about Stauffenberg.

Claus Schenk von Stauffenberg really tried to kill Hitler by using a bomb, and it's common knowledge that Rommel was involved in the plot, or at least knew about it, though what part exactly he took in it remains unknown ; one thing's sure, though, it's that he didn't tell Hitler about it. I'm borrowing the briefcase bomb from both the show Hogan's Heroes (which you should watch if you like WW2 and a good laugh) and from the movie "Operation Walkyrie".

Stauffenberg's injuries are real as well, he was seriously wounded, though in do not know of the circumstances. He also used to joke about it, thus the quote about him not doing anything with his ten fingers when he still had them is accurate, as far as I know.