Notes: Aaaaaand the second part of the Christmas chapter - even if Christmas fades quickly into the next big event, aka Dobby. DOBBY DIDN'T MEAN TO KILL; DOBBY ONLY MEANT TO MAIM... OR SERIOUSLY INJURE!
Just so you know, I was listening to "...And Then I Kissed Him" from Pearl Harbour while writing the paper cranes part.
Part XI
"Arthur, wake up, wake up," Luna whispered.
Arthur opened his eyes, taking a deep breath. He shuddered slightly, hating the darkness of the cellar.
"You had one of those dreams again, didn't you?" Luna asked. A hand rested on his arm, causing the Briton to twitch away.
"Y-yes," he gasped.
"What was it about?"
"You know… You-Know-Who…" Arthur leaned heavily against the wall, feeling pain, anger, and sadness course through his body like white-water rapids. "He… he was attacking Harry."
Stunned silence on her part made him feel uncomfortable.
"He was with Hermione. They were in a house with an old lady… she asked for Harry to follow her and became a snake..."
Luna gasped. "Did Harry escape?"
"Yes, he and Hermione escaped… but You-Know-Who was enraged… and in pain, because he was within sight of Harry's house… which means that Harry and Hermione had gone to Godric's Hollow!"
"Well, at least they're fine!" Luna exclaimed. "But… somehow I think there's more to this dream of yours..."
"Yeah. You-Know-Who saw the picture of the thief… the thief was somehow related to the old lady…"
Everyone was up early on Christmas morning opening presents around the tree and snacking on freshly baked croissants from the kitchen.
Everyone except Kiku, of course.
"Don't be such a killjoy, Kiku!" Alfred whined, dragging the Japanese away from his bed. Francis and Madeline were giving each other their presents when Alfred frogmarched Kiku into the room.
"Look who's up," Francis drawled, handing Kiku a parcel. "Joyeux Noël."
"Happy Christmas," Kiku replied stiffly, sitting down on the nearby bench and unwrapping the parcel.
Francis had given him a bottle of lubricant. Kiku stared at the bottle and then back at the Frenchman, whose grin could have rivalled the Cheshire cat's.
"Like it?" Francis asked with that wide grin. "Think it might come in handy if it turns out that Arthur's not dead after all."
"You are an absolute pervert," Kiku hissed.
The rest of his presents were less in the gutter. Alfred gave him some red and green cookies that Kiku suspected were the American's latest attempt at baking. Madeline got him a book of seafood recipes. The Weasleys sent in a box of sweetmeats and a hand-knitted jumper.
"I can't believe Nat took all this trouble to send me a Broomstick Servicing Kit," Alfred breathed from next to him. Kiku looked over at the American, who was reading Nataliya's card with a fond expression on his face.
He suddenly started missing Arthur more than ever, wishing that the Briton was there opening presents with him.
"There's another present for you," Madeline suddenly noted, tossing Kiku the last parcel under the tree. "Got it from Feliciano who got it from Gilbert who got it from Nataliya."
Kiku blinked, unwrapping the brown paper. Suddenly a torrent of clumsily made paper cranes spilled out onto his lap. There was a card and the glint of something metallic buried beneath the pile of cranes.
The card read:
Dearest Kiku,
I am sending this to you under the pretence that they are Death Eater correspondence notes – it's the only way this can get to you. Nataliya is sending this to Gilbert, who will send it to Feliciano, whom I trust will deliver it to you instead of reading them himself.
Herein are all the letters I have written to you since my capture; every time Nataliya comes down she provides enough light in this cellar for me to write something from my heart to you. I wish I could express just how much I miss you and all the rest of my friends.
Also enclosed is a locket – it's my mother's; don't get any ideas that I wear lockets like a girl – think of it as me until we are reunited.
With all my heart,
Arthur
P.S. Teach me how to fold paper cranes when we meet again.
"You're crying, Kiku," Alfred noted.
The Japanese wiped away the tears and bit his lip. "Hai, but... none of your business..."
"We know, which makes it surprising," Francis said, peering over at the cranes. "They're from Arthur, aren't they?"
Kiku nodded, taking the locket from its hiding place within the cranes and opening the clasp. A fairly recent photograph was there of Arthur, smiling up at him and waving slightly.
Kiku burst into fresh tears, grabbing the cranes and the locket and running out of the room.
"Look what I got you," Nataliya said, handing Arthur a parcel. "Happy Christmas."
"Thanks, Nat. I wish I could give you something," Arthur mumbled as he started to unwrap the present.
She smiled, her indigo eyes sad. "Give me hope. It's all I want now... I wish I knew if my present got to Alfred... wish I knew if there was even someone there to give it to..."
Arthur nodded, feeling the same. He looked down at what he unwrapped. "The Life and Lies of Albus Dumbledore," he read, looking back up at the Belarusian girl. "Thought you didn't like Rita Skeeter."
"This time I'm afraid she might have interviewed the right person. Look here." Nataliya took the book out of its wrappings and flipped to a page where there was a photo.
The photo was of a younger Dumbledore, his arms around the merry-faced thief who had stolen the Elder Wand from Gregorovitch. Arthur looked down at the caption.
"Gellert Grindelwald?" he hissed.
Grindelwald was a fearsome Dark Wizard whose rise to power was timed with that of the Nazis. His reign of terror extended everywhere across Europe, terrorising wizards and Muggles alike. Allied with the Axis Powers, he resolved to eventually assassinate the Muggle dictators and thus impose Wizarding rule over all of Europe's Muggles.
His revolution, called the Revolution, broke out in 1940. Based in Berlin with his Muggle allies, Grindelwald quickly had the German Ministry of Magic under his control. Poland was next to go, and then France. People predicted that Great Britain would be next to fall.
But, contrary to prediction, Grindelwald avoided Great Britain. He feared his childhood friend, the skilled British wizard Albus Dumbledore, because Dumbledore knew his secrets and plans. Dumbledore knew that the Revolution centred around the Deathly Hallows, three mysterious artefacts that would enable someone to become Master of Death should he successfully manage to unite all three.
Grindelwald already had one of them, the Elder Wand. It was unbeatable in a duel – to master it one had to murder the previous owner. With the Elder Wand, Grindelwald and his army dreamed and schemed for their new international Wizarding Empire.
But by now, Dumbledore had realised that it was time to fight his friend – fight the boy he had fallen in love with so many years ago. In 1945, Dumbledore met Grindelwald in front of Nurmengard, the towering fortress just outside of Nuremberg that Grindelwald had constructed to hold his prisoners. They duelled, and Dumbledore emerged the victor.
Now Grindelwald was a prisoner in his own prison, repenting for what he had done to his best friend and would-have-been lover.
Kiku was in Godric's Hollow once more, laying white chrysanthemums on Tristan and Islode Kirkland's snow-covered graves. After another long moment of looking at the inscription on the tombstone, he turned and left the cemetery.
"Dear Kiku," he read from a recently unfolded paper crane, the rest neatly wrapped up and stowed away in his robes.
Dear Kiku,
It's dark here where I am. Everlasting darkness – well, until Nat comes around and provides some light. It's so easy just to pretend to be dead, and even easier to wish that one truly was dead. But I'm not, and I won't be because I'm living for the day when I finally get to see you smile again.
You know, Kiku, the word 'if' is such a small word but it has such tremendous meaning. The phrase 'what if' opens up such a wide array of possibilities. What if the Death Eaters had never went to the tower that night? What if I had realised these feelings sooner? Maybe things would have been different. Maybe we could have had more time.
But in the end, things are always done for a reason, I suppose. Every move is just a little step forward in our stories. That's my philosophy, anyways. I wonder what yours is, and I wish you could tell me.
Thinking of you,
Arthur
Kiku smiled, looking up as he walked past the Potters' house. The sign was there, shining against the snow. He wandered along another quiet street, the cottages looking as if they were made of gingerbread. Inside, people were celebrating Christmas Day with family and friends.
He paused as he came to another house. It was darkened, and the door was hanging off its hinges. The upstairs windows were shattered.
He frowned, drawing his wand. Part of him was curious and wanted to investigate. The other part was cautious and reminded him that it could be a trap.
Curiosity kills kitties, so Kiku (after quickly looking around to make sure no one was watching) entered the house. The first thing he realised was that it stunk.
The second thing he realised was that there had been a fight in the house a long time ago. Furniture was scattered and destroyed; debris littered the floor like a shipwreck site.
The stairs were rickety under his feet despite the fact that he wasn't very heavy. Kiku tiptoed up the stairs, wand at the ready, wary of every other noise in the house. He entered a room upstairs, seeing at first a completely destroyed dresser with a mound of dirty clothes on it.
And then he saw the body.
There was a knock on Remus Lupin and Nymphadora Tonks' door; Remus went to answer it, his wand at the ready.
"Kiku?" he asked. "Are you Kiku Honda? Tell me, who was your companion the night we fought over Little Whinging?"
"Alfred F. Jones," Kiku said immediately.
Remus stepped aside as the Japanese took off his shoes and entered the apartment. "How are you?" the werewolf asked.
"Lupin-san, you have to see this quickly," Kiku said, waving hello to Tonks, whose belly was swelled with child. "Konnichiwa, Tonks-san," he added to her; she smiled.
"Wotcher, Kiku," Tonks greeted. "What's the matter?"
"I was in Godric's Hollow earlier today," Kiku said, "And I came across a house that seemed to have been the site of a struggle. Upon entering the house –"
"Wait, wait, you entered a house that might have been attacked by Death Eaters?" Lupin asked, a slight edge to his voice.
"Hai, Lupin-san, but I had my wand out and the house was almost deserted – I say almost because there was the body of an old lady in the upstairs bedroom."
"Bathida Bagshot was interviewed for this book," Nataliya pointed out as Luna and Arthur flipped through The Life and Lies of Albus Dumbledore. "She was Grindelwald's great-aunt."
Arthur stared at the book in shock. "This... this is preposterous!"
"The letter, look at the letter," Nataliya urged.
Arthur silently read the letter featured in the chapter "The Greater Good". When he looked back up, his face was a mask of disbelief.
"I can't bloody believe... can't..." he stammered. "He..."
"He was friends with Grindelwald when he was younger, I know," Nataliya said quietly. "And somehow... I think he wished that he could have been more."
"Xenophilius Lovegood was arrested," Francis was saying as Kiku re-entered Bonnefois Villa, looking slightly shaken. It had been several days since he discovered the body.
"Kiku, where the hell have you been?" Madeline demanded from her seat next to Francis in the living room; Kiku felt rather awkward and he started backing out of the room.
"Come back in here!" Alfred exclaimed, pouncing on him and dragging him into the room despite Kiku's loud protests. "Were you on an adventure? Tell us!"
"No, don't encourage that, Alfred!" Madeline hissed. "He could have been inches away from death out there for all you know!"
"At least just tell us where you went off to," Francis reasoned.
Kiku glowered at them. "Godric's Hollow," he said shortly.
"Why?" Alfred demanded. "Last time we went Greyback was there!"
"I was putting flowers on Arthur's parents' grave."
Ludwig couldn't sleep.
Feliciano was curled up next to him in the bed. The Italian was naked, as usual, and Ludwig felt very, very awkward. The very thought made him blush furiously. He turned over, back to Feliciano, and stared at the clock.
It was well past midnight, and still sleep evaded him. Ludwig closed his eyes, hoping that will convince his body to let him sleep.
He was standing just outside Nuremberg, looking up at a dark fortress. It towered up above him like a series of jet-black spikes, a dark blot against the cheerful German town next to it. Nurmengard stood before him, its iron gate carved with the chilling message Für das größere Wohl – For the Greater Good.
There was a dark creature flying up to the tallest tower. Ludwig frowned. Could it be Voldemort, the Dark Wizard who killed the Althauses? Judging by the sinking feeling in his gut, yes.
By virtue of the dream, Ludwig found himself soaring up to the tower as well. The window was too narrow for him to enter, but somehow he managed – just like the other man who was inside the room.
Lord Voldemort stood there, appraising a figure curled beneath a blanket. Gellert Grindelwald laid there, his body feeble, and shrunken. For a brief moment, Ludwig was moved by pity, but then he remembered that Grindelwald had been partly responsible for some of the most damaging battles and bombings in World War Two; he backed up against the window again.
Grindelwald opened huge sunken eyes and leered a toothless leer at Voldemort. "So you have come," he rasped. "I thought you would… one day. But your journey was pointless. I never had it."
"You lie!" spat Voldemort.
And part of Ludwig somehow knew that Grindelwald really was lying, that he sought to protect Dumbledore – the childhood friend who had encouraged some of his greatest and most terrible ideas, the young man he had fallen for, the wizard who defeated him with regret in his eyes.
Could things have been different between the two of them?
There was a loud bang in the cellar, causing Arthur to jolt awake. The bang was quickly followed by a loud scream – a horrible drawn-out scream that sent Arthur's hairs on end.
"HERMIONE!" someone bellowed. The voice was familiar and the name was familiar. "HERMIONE!"
"Be quiet!" another familiar voice hissed. "Shut up, Ron, we need to work out a way – "
"Bloody hell," Arthur called through the darkness. "Did they finally capture you three?"
"Arthur?" Harry's voice called back. "You're here?"
"I've been here since June; where have you been?"
"Long story," Harry said, even as Luna called through the darkness as well.
"Harry? Ron?"
"Luna?" Ron demanded, pausing in his screaming of Hermione's name.
"Yes, it's me! Oh no, I didn't want you to be caught!"
"Luna, can you help us get these ropes off?" Harry asked.
Arthur grabbed an old nail from next to the jug of water that Nataliya had left on her last visit. He crawled over to where the voices were and reached out.
"We have an old nail we use for these sorts of things," Luna said. "Arthur, do you have the nail?"
"Yeah," Arthur said, "but I need some light."
"My pocket," Ron said urgently, even as Bellatrix's voice echoed from above along with Hermione's screams. He was twitching and squirming, eager to get out of his bonds. "There's a Deluminator in my pocket; it's full of light!"
Luna reached for Ron and a few moments later the cellar was full of light.
"There are four of you?" Arthur asked as he started hacking away at their bindings.
"Yeah... Dean Thomas and Griphook the goblin," Harry said as Luna greeted Dean. Ron squirmed as Bellatrix threatened to run Hermione through with her knife.
Once the bindings fell away, Dean and Griphook muttered their thanks and slumped down onto the floor. Ron and Harry were racing around the cellar, trying to escape.
"The cellar's escape-proof," Arthur said quietly. "Ollivander tried everything when he came; he was here the longest." In the corner, the feeble form of Ollivander stirred slightly and went back to sleep.
"Arthur, you look horrible," Luna suddenly noted even as Hermione gave another dreadful scream. Arthur winced in pain, hating the sound and wishing he could go up and help Hermione.
"So do the rest of us," he choked out.
"Help us!" Harry was screaming to a mirror. "We're in the cellar of Malfoy Manor, help us!" Arthur frowned slightly, but he said nothing.
"How did you get into my vault?" Bellatrix screamed from up above. "Did that dirty little goblin in the cellar help you?"
"We only met him tonight!" Hermione sobbed. "We've never been inside your vault! It's not the real sword; it's a copy!"
"What sword?" Arthur asked as Harry raced to Griphook and whispered something in his ear.
"The sword of Godric Gryffindor," Ron replied hoarsely before resuming his bellowing.
"Stand back!" Draco's nervous voice resounded from behind the door. "Line up against the back wall. Don't t-try anything, or-or-or I'll k-kill you!"
They did as they were told, Ron extinguishing the light at the last minute. When the cellar door slammed closed again, there was a loud crack. Ron restored the light; Dobby the house-elf was standing there.
"DOB – !" Ron bellowed, but Harry hit him on the arm before he finished. Ron looked horrified.
"Harry Potter," the house-elf said, his voice quivering. "Dobby has come to rescue you."