Disclaimer: This story is based on characters created and owned by JK Rowling, various publishers including but not limited to Bloomsbury Books, Scholastic Books and Raincoat Books, and Warner Bros., Inc. No money is being made and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended.
AN:
This chapter and the next are a small interlude: entirely about an OC. But he's very important to the plot, so I hope you have the patience to read it.
All languages that are not English will be in italics. Mostly German in this chapter.
Part I: Chapter 22
Julian Erlichmann stood before a wide table in the Dark Lord's study, his sky blue eyes analyzing the battle plans spread before him. He carded his fingers through his curls of short, auburn hair as he forced his handsome features to remain placid instead troubled.
He was a young man in his early twenties, but he had discovered that the feeling of youth vanished before the certainty of death in the near future.
He had always known he would die young. His one constant friend and companion all throughout his life had candidly forewarned him of the fact a long time ago.
He glanced around the room, half hopeful whilst he chided himself for it. By nay, he didn't see Santi.
He dryly chuckled under his breath at that. For as long as he remembered, Santi had always been a constant presence in his life.
When he was a toddler, his mother had believed he played with an imaginary friend. Santi was that, for much of his childhood, until Julian came to understand that the man -who played with him when his parents were constantly occupied with their social ambitions, who cheered him every time he waved his faux child's wand, who clapped at his small accomplishments, who cherished him and tussled his hair with fondness and affection, who made himself glow beautifully in golden light when Julian wanted to see something 'pretty' or made himself solid when a little Julian wanted a hug- was very much real, but only showed himself to him.
"Why to me and not others?" he had once asked, yawning as Santi tucked him into bed, when he had been eight years old.
"Because you're special, you're worthy," Santi had said softly, tenderly sweeping one of Julian's auburn curls to one side. "Because you remind me of him."
"The boy with the green eyes and the lightning bolt scar?" little Julian had asked excitedly, his blue eyes shining.
"Yes."
"When will I meet him?" Julian asked quickly, before his small face scrunched slightly, fretfully. "Will he like me? Will he be my friend?"
"I wish he could," Santi said quietly, eyeing him sadly. "But he won't, Julian. You'll be older than him and you'll never meet. But you will see him, just twice."
Julian had felt devastated at that. He had always listened when Santi told him about the green-eyed boy called simply 'Harry', how Santi was waiting for him, how the boy was very special. And he had never failed to detect the yearning in Santi's voice, wanting to have that boy finally there, with him.
Nevertheless, Santi had been a brother, a father, a friend, a mentor, and a guide. It had been thanks to Santi that he had gathered the courage to stand up to his father when he had been ten years old.
Julian had always loved the Arts: Painting, Architecture, Sculpturing, but above all, Music. Of course, such interests were not valued in an heir of the powerful and ancient bloodline of the Erlichmanns, purebloods in Magic but also in German ancestry.
Santi, with his usual honesty, which could sometimes be brutal, had made matters very clear to him.
"Durmstrang is not the place for you. If you don't fight to go to Beauxbatons, you'll be miserable." He had carefully taken Julian's chin, raising it to look into his eyes, as he added quietly, "You have to grasp the chances you have to attain things that will give you joy, because they will be slim and few, and you don't have many years left."
The ten-year-old Julian hadn't understood it at the time, but it had been his first forewarning of how short his life would be.
However, he had hatched a plan, and after months of negotiations, his parents and he had come to an agreement: he would go to Beauxbatons as long as he continued studying the Dark Arts in private; he was forbidden from interacting with mudbloods; and during the summers when he went back home, he would be tested by a tutor of Dark Arts, and if he failed, he would be sent to Durmstrang. Needless to say, if his parents even heard a whisper of a rumor that he had befriended a mudblood or even a halfblood, he would be shipped post-haste to Durmstrang as well.
And so, he had entered Beauxbatons Academy and a whole world of beauty and splendor had opened before his eyes. He had seen the Wizarding World from a vastly different perspective than the one taught to him by his parents.
Indeed, ideas of blood purity seemed to matter little to the many students of the school, even those who were purebloods themselves and came from highly respected families. Among those, Laurent Didier, above all, had showed him a whole other side of things.
He had met Laurent in his first day of class, and all throughout their stay, they had taken the same elective classes of Magical Songcrafting, Wizardry Painting, and Magical Instruments. They shared the same passion, though whilst Julian leaned towards Music, Laurent was a truly gifted painter. And while Laurent's family happily and proudly encouraged him, Julian was always very careful his parents never found out about his electives.
With that, he had help from Santi, who had appeared often during his Beauxbatons years, to be a friend and confidant, but also to teach him the Dark Arts, as Santi had promised he would, so that Julian never failed his summer tests.
As much as Julian disliked it, it had soon become clear to them both that he had an affinity for the Dark Arts and a natural, instinctual grasp of them. His parents, too, were quick to pick up on that, as he proved his curse-casting abilities and awed them, and their concerns dwindled, granting him greater freedom.
It was thus that he was allowed to spend several holidays with his best friend's family. If his parents would have ever found out what would come of that, Julian knew he would have never been given permission.
Julian had been in awe of the warmth and love that pervaded in Laurent's family, he had basked in their joy of his music and songs, he had had teary eyes when Laurent had gifted him with a beautiful magical silver flute that became his favorite instrument, which he came to play like a master, earning moved tears from Laurent's family or delighted sighs of musical pleasure.
The Didiers had encouraged his passion by taking him to the see the most famed Songmasters in the Grand Conservatory of Magical Music of wizarding Vienna, they had even offered to take him in and finance his career in Music after Beauxbatons.
He had been tempted, but love for his parents, however little they understood him, had kept him from accepting.
However, love of another sort had then struck him. When Julian had been fourteen, he had hoped his life-long companion could be a lover too, his first.
After Julian made his stammering declaration, shy, nervous and flushing, Santi had indulgently smiled at him. "It's not me you love, but your friend."
Julian had blinked, stared down at the magical flute in his hand, and had suddenly realized the truth of those words. And indeed, soon after, with Laurent Didier he had known a love as none other.
But things had slowly started to change, the summer when he had turned fifteen and his father had demanded he returned home for the holidays. He had a 'special visit of great educational value' prepared for Julian.
That summer, Julian had been taken to Nurmengard Tower. The Dark Lord's higher ranks were holding a vast meeting amongst themselves, and they had brought their children along, so they could mingle together, turning the occasion into a social gathering for the younger generations.
Julian had not enjoyed the 'opportunity' of making useful connections, as his father had put it. But it turned interesting when Santi, who had accompanied him -remaining invisible and unheard to all but him, as always- had urged him to follow him into the dungeons. "There's someone I want you to see."
Curious and intrigued, Julian had complied. Doing his best to ignore all other prisoners, he had finally reached a secluded cell, at the very end of the last subfloor of the dungeons, well apart from all the others.
There, he had seen a woman with strong features, the signs of torture, rape, and starvation clear on her body and tattered clothes. She had been lying haphazardly against a wall, her eyes closed.
"Meet Sybilla Spyros," Santi said to him, his gaze pinned on the woman.
Julian shot him a quizzical glance. "Who is she?"
"A true Seer, of Cassandra's line."
"Impossible!" burst out Julian disbelievingly. "There are none left of that line. Haven't been for ages."
"They remained hidden," Santi said patiently, before he gestured coolly at the woman. "She is Cassandra's last true descendant. And I mean 'true' because she's the last with Cassandra's Curse. Her son doesn't suffer the full effect, and her granddaughter will have scant of it."
Julian didn't doubt his words for a second. By then, he had already known that Santi knew things that had not happened yet, just as he had known that Santi was able to do things that weren't possible. The man had proved both in several occasions. Julian had thought him to be a very powerful wizard and Seer, who preferred anonymity.
"What is she doing here?" Julian asked bewildered. Then a thought entered his mind, and he turned to fully face Santi, as he breathed out, "You want us to save her?"
"Save her?" Santi chortled, looking vastly amused, before he shook his head. "She doesn't want saving-"
"Listening to you, I would think you were speaking to yourself, boy," suddenly said a hoarse, sharp voice, her German heavy with a Greek accent.
Julian spun around to see the Seer gazing at him with heavy-lidded dark eyes, and he suddenly felt a shudder creeping down his spine. He had never seen such deep hatred in anyone's eyes before, even though it didn't seem to be directed at him but at the whole world in general.
The witch chuckled dryly, sounding like stones grinding against stones. "But you aren't alone, are you, boy?" Her eyes flickered around. "I knew you would come to see me. My Inner Eye Saw. Are you going to remain cloaked from my sight, creature?"
Julian saw how Santi did something then: he shimmered for a brief moment and then stood there, looking as solid and real as Julian had scarcely seen before.
"I finally lay eyes on you," said the witch hoarsely, her dark eyes narrowed and skewering. "For the first and last time, eh?"
Julian shot Santi a baffled glance at that, and his life-long companion grinned without any mirth, as he intoned, "Sybilla here is going to be killed tomorrow, by the Dark Lord." At Julian's look of alarm, Santi was quick to add, "Oh, fret not. She already knows. She wants it to happen. After all, she allowed herself to be captured. You see, she has great plans of vengeance. Her hatred for all wizarding and muggle kind is so vast, that she cares little of the cost to her."
"Vengeance for what?" murmured Julian bewildered.
"For her suffering, and the suffering of her long line of ancestors which she has always felt as her own, through her Inner Eye. Suffering brought upon by wizards and muggles alike," said Santi calmly, before he turned to the Seer and arched an eyebrow. "I suppose I would be wasting my breath if I asked you to reconsider your plans?"
"You dare presume tell me what I should do?" the witch bit out sharply, her fury and disgust clear on her ravaged features. "You, who are an atrocious accident of nature, a freak, a mutation, an abomination!"
"Is that what I am?" Santi chortled loudly. "Why, the Centaurs see the trail that my existence leaves when they read the Stars and call me 'The Fates'. I rather prefer that poetic connotation to my being." He grinned widely. "It has a nice ring to it, wouldn't you say?"
"Centaurs!" shrieked the witch contemptuously. "That just shows how little they know!" She pinned Santi with dark eyes narrowed to slits, as she spat out, "If you had any sense and any feeling of responsibility, you would have killed yourself millennia ago, abomination!"
Santi shook his head slowly. "Don't think I didn't consider that alternative a long time ago, Sybilla. But I came to the rather accurate conclusion that ceasing my existence, such as it is, would cause more harm than remaining alive."
The Seer shot him a repulsed look, before she hissed out, "It matters not. You can't do anything to thwart my plans." Her dark eyes shone brightly, as she added gleefully, "The boy is already here, in this present, in this line. Has been for some years. He's in London, in the orphanage." She shot him a mocking look. "But you don't dare find him now, do you? Too soon, and it will end in catastrophe."
Santi remained silent, merely gazing back at her impassively.
She chuckled acidly, before her gaunt features morphed into a triumphant expression, as she breathed out exultantly, "He's here because of the Truth I will speak to that wizard who calls himself a Dark Lord, and because of the memories I will allow him to take. I've Seen the boy's past, present, and future. And I've Seen how the plans I've already put into motion will make him my catalyst, my tool-"
"He is the catalyst," interjected Santi shortly, "but the 'tool' for your revenge, that he will not be, Sybilla."
The witch stilled, before her dark eyes narrowed, as she hissed out, "I don't believe you. I Saw!" She pointed a finger straight at Julian. "He will be the Helper. And the other boy with be the Finder and the Key. My Inner Eye has Seen."
Julian stared at her, utterly baffled and nonplussed at those words.
"It pleases me to tell you, that even though you're the most powerful Seer in ages, your Inner Eye does not always See everything," quipped Santi nonchalantly, widely grinning at her. "Indeed, compared to my own ways of knowing, it's sadly lacking." He took a step forward to be inches away from her through the bars of her cell, as he added coolly, "Part of your plots will bear fruits. But the end result will not be entirely what you expect and desire."
The Seer's eyes narrowed further, now merely slits, as she shook her head and spat, "I don't believe you."
"Good," said Santi shortly, beaming a gorgeous, pleased smile at her. "I rather prefer you don't." Abruptly, the smile vanished from his handsome face, and he crouched to the floor, to be at eye-level with the Seer, and he said softly, "I tried to make Helena help you and yours, that you must believe."
"Helena!" the witch spat with violent, seething hatred and contempt. "She's the cause of all our misery – I have never wanted her 'help'!"
Santi remained silent for a long moment, before he nodded acceptingly. Then he swiftly stood up and turned to Julian. "Come, we're done here."
And without a parting glance towards the Seer, Santi shimmered into a translucent state and led the way.
"I didn't understand much," admitted Julian in a whisper as they began climbing stairs.
"I know."
Julian shot him a puzzled glance. "Then why did you want me to see her and hear all those things?"
"For several reasons," said Santi slowly. "Firstly, I wanted you to meet the Seer whose actions began the change. She was supposed to flee with her husband and son. She knew it. But instead, she remained behind, waiting for Grindelwald's followers. That shifted things. Secondly, that 'plan' she spoke about, the one she already put in motion, she did that some years ago, contacting a certain group of people, revealing herself as a Seer and speaking some selected Truths to them." He shot Julian a glance, his voice turning softer, "It will have a direct impact on you, some years from now."
Julian shook his head. "I don't understand."
Santi warmly smiled at him. "I know. But you will remember everything that was said here today, and when the time comes, you will comprehend everything. You will understand what your role will be in the great scope of things."
He paused for a moment, before they entered the vast chamber where the children of the Dark Lord's followers were mingling together, and intensely bore his gaze into Julian's, as he said pointedly, "But for the next few years, I don't want you to worry about any of this. I want you to do what I've always suggested."
Julian tilted his head to a side. "Grasp any opportunity for joy with both hands?" He grinned widely in understanding. "Laurent."
Santi nodded, smiling fondly as he tussled the fifteen-year-old boy's hair.
Julian had done exactly that, from that day onwards, and by the time Laurent and he were in their last year of school, they had made great plans for their future together: they would spend a couple of years in Italy, so that Laurent could apprentice under the great wizarding painters of the land, then they would go to Austria, for Julian to attain his Songmastership in the Vienna Conservatory.
However, all those secret plans had been crushed when, a few months before their graduation from Beauxbatons, the European Dueling Championship had been declared. Julian's parents had registered him instantly and were most stern and firm about the matter.
"I know just how much you excel in the Dark Arts and dueling," his father had told him sharply in a floo-call. "You will win this Championship and bring honor to our name. A bright, glorious future awaits you if you succeed in this, Julian."
If he had known beforehand what his father had been referring to, he would have taken Laurent and fled.
Santi had known and warned him, though. With a heavy expression on his face, he had said quietly, "I cannot prevent this. Whether you participate in the Championship or not, your father will succeed in his plans for you. And if you escape with Laurent, it will not end well."
Julian had gazed at his lifelong companion, and asked softly, "What does my father want from me?"
"He wants you for Grindelwald."
All color had vanished from Julian's handsome face, his sky blue eyes wide with horror. "As a lover… For power? For social standing for the family? To climb up the ranks?" Santi didn't answer, but it wasn't required. Julian knew. He had shaken his head. "Why does my father think I can entice the Dark Lord! I've heard about the string of lovers he's had-"
"Because your father has made a recent discovery," Santi had cut in. "Some rumors he's heard and given credence to – and they're true."
It was then when Julian was told the story of Albus Dumbledore and Gellert Grindewald, and he could hardly believe his ears.
"They were lovers when they were teenagers?" gasped out Julian incredulously. "The Albus Dumbledore? The famed English wizard, member of his country's Wizengamot, Professor of Hogwarts-"
"Yes."
Julian shook his head, trying to grasp the notion. "But what does that have to do with me?"
"You possess an uncanny resemblance to him, when he was young, when he met Grindelwald," Santi said candidly. "Now, your father is aware of this, and he knows it will snag Grindelwald's attention, that it will appeal to him. The Dark Lord will want you."
"But I have Laurent and I only want him!" said Julian desperately.
Santi shot him a sorrowful look. "I already told you. If you flee with him, your father will find you, and –"
"And Laurent will be killed," concluded Julian on his own. He shot him a frantic look. "Are you sure? Laurent is a Didier, they are an important family in France, with many connections. My father might not dare kill him because of that-"
"He will," Santi said simply. "He will make it look like an accident, and he'll take you away to Germany, and no one will be the wiser." His expression softened, as he added, "If I could save you from what's to come, I would."
"You can do anything, Santi," interjected Julian sharply. "I've known that for a long time, even though I don't understand it. Is it that you can't 'save me', or that you won't?"
"I can but I won't," replied Santi, looking as if he carried the weight of the world on his shoulders, his expression wretched but at the same time decisive. "You must understand, the cost for everyone involved of me sparing you what's to come is much greater than the benefit of saving you from it."
That very precise moment was the first and only time in Julian's life when he felt a powerful surge of fury, deep hurt, and hatred for Santi, and he had yelled, half sobbing, half chocking his words out in a shout, "I see, so it's all For the Greater Good – as the Dark Lord's motto goes! My happiness, my life, is to be sacrificed for the common good of all the rest?"
"Yes. It's hard, but true. I'm deeply sorry," muttered Santi quietly. "Given what I am, I can't act according to anything else."
Julian let out a bitter laugh. "And if I do what my father wants – where does that path lead to? This path you want me to follow! Oh, but I already know, don't I? That 'role in the greater scope of things' you mentioned a few years ago, this is where it begins, isn't it? My time for 'joy' has ended."
"Yes," said Santi quietly, before he grabbed Julian by the shoulders and embraced him tightly.
Julian could feel the warmth of him, the affection, and also the heart-felt sorrow, as Santi murmured softly into his ear, "It's also the best path for you, Julian. I've never lied to you, and I'm not lying about this. Do you think you would be happy if you lived for some years longer but Laurent died? Because that's the trade. In all the possibilities that can be, born from the decisions you can make, you always die young, Julian. You never escape your father's grasp, nor the one the Dark Lord will have on you. The only significant difference between all the paths, the only difference that will matter to you, is Laurent's future."
Julian, who had remained stiff until then, felt his body go limp as he leaned into the embrace and whispered, "What am I buying for him, then?"
"Decades of life. Laurent will live until an old age. And he will be content with his spouse. Not happy, as he was with you, but it will suffice him."
After that, there was only one possible course of action for him, the one Santi had desired and had known he would take. Julian's bitterness and anger towards his life-long companion, who had been a brother, a father, a friend, a confidant and a mentor, had melted away then, because he had made his choice, willingly, with knowledge of the consequences. For that, he was grateful to Santi. He entered the new path of his life without a blind over his eyes.
And it was thus, and with steely determination, that in the weeks preceding the Championship he trained arduously, and when the tournament commenced, he performed brilliantly.
He won, becoming the youngest European Dueling Champion in several centuries, and the only satisfaction he got wasn't born from his sudden fame throughout the wizarding newspapers of Europe, or from his parents' praises, congratulations and evident pride in him, but from knowing he was embarking on the best possible path, not for 'everyone involved', not for 'the greater good', but for Laurent.
The two months after the Championship and before their graduation from Beauxbatons, he lived them to the fullest with his lover, with unrestrained passion, with exultant freedom and joy for life, becoming so wrapped up in Laurent's warmth, devotion, and love, that Julian felt he would carry it with him when he was gone.
Though, he didn't breathe a word of his plans to Laurent. How could he explain, when he couldn't tell about Santi? And how would his lover understand without that explanation? So he preferred to leave Laurent in the dark, knowing that it was for the best.
His parents didn't attend his graduation ceremony, his father being too occupied with family business and with tasks for the Dark Lord, his mother with social obligations that would further their family's clout and connections much more than being present in her son's celebration of the end of a school career.
"Have pictures taken for the newspapers," was the only thing required of him. He had understood, but furthermore, he hadn't felt their lack of presence.
Laurent's whole family had attended and he had always felt part of them, so welcoming they were. Even Aurora Bones – Laurent's mother's sister – and her family had portkeyed in, especially for the occasion.
Julian had met the curly blonde witch several times before, when she had been visiting the Didiers at the same time that Julian spent one of the holidays with them. He had always liked her -friendly and kind as she was- even when he was aware of her position in the English wizarding government, as Undersecretary of the Minister of Magic.
Furthermore, Beauxbatons had been graced with the presence of an honored guest. Though seeing Albus Dumbledore around the school was not something very surprising. Gossip about the many times Dumbledore visited the school, and the reason for it, had become stuff of legend. Many students had witnessed it in different years, and Julian himself had seen it with his own eyes.
Once, when he had been walking down a corridor near the teachers' quarters, he had caught sight of Albus Dumbledore knocking on the door of their Care of Magical Creatures Professor. The door was yanked open, and in the second that it took for Professor Aberforth Dumbledore to see who it was on the other side, the door was already being slammed shut on the older brother's face, without a word spoken.
After Santi's revelation pertaining to Albus Dumbledore's past, the scene had made much sense, and Julian had felt a surge of pity and compassion for the man, standing there, unwanted and unforgiven by his own brother. It couldn't be an easy thing, to lose a sister because of a lover and one's own mistake.
As much as he felt certain empathy towards the wizard, however, he hadn't expected what would come from that day.
After the ceremony, he had been celebrating on the splendorous gardens of Beauxbatons, with his school friends and Laurent's extended family.
His lover was good-naturedly teasing him, which always seemed to be Laurent's version of the beginning of publicly acceptable foreplay.
"Oh, look at you, mon cher," Laurent was whispering into his ear in a silky French, "so dashing in your primp formal pureblood robes, looking so proper – the good little Erlichmann Heir." He let out a soft rumble of a chuckle. "I want to devour you and mess you up, Julién – so tempting." And with that, he playfully bit into the crook of Julian's neck, swirling a tongue along for full measure.
Julian could only chuckle and tilt his neck to a side to grant more access. He saw the scandalized looks they were gathering from parents and grandparents of some of the students, and it only made it all the more enjoyable.
In complete contrast with Julian, Laurent's style was eclectic, which was all the rage in Beauxbaton's subculture of the tight-knit group of students who called themselves the 'liberal thinkers', which Laurent belonged to and exemplified with utter disorderly perfection: his clothes a mesh of colorful gypsy drabs, accented with wizarding fashion here and there, his fingers, and even cheeks most of times, displaying small splats of paint, and with a muggle cigarette hanging from his lips or between his fingers, which had become very avant-garde and a symbol and statement against the 'stuck-up' generation of their parents and forefathers and their pureblood ideals.
With his broad shoulders, tall frame, sun-tanned skin, hazel eyes and shoulder-length wavy dark blonde hair, which he wore tied by the nape, Laurent was a pleasure to behold. Even his atrocious German and heavily accented English made Laurent charming, in Julian's view, and it always made him smile, besotted.
After Laurent had nibbled his way from the base of Julian's neck to his ear, lingering for some time on the lobe, he snapped his head away, looking thoroughly satisfied, and then called out to a passing by house-elf carrying a tray filled with hors d'oeuvres and flutes of French champagne. He took charge of distributing the flutes among the members of his family, to then raise his into the air.
"A salut! To my lover, Julién, the top student of our year, the youngest European Dueling Champion in so and so many centuries, and the winner of Beauxbaton's Award of Magical Excellence, and etcetera, etcetera, because I lost count of all his awards during the ceremony!" Laurent winked at Julian and rakishly grinned. "How many were there, mon cher?"
Julian smiled at him, as he shrugged. "I didn't count them either – just gave them to a house-elf with orders to stuff them in my trunk."
"That's the spirit!" chortled Laurent, bobbing his flute high in the air. "To Julién - Salut!"
"Salut!" cheered the Didiers and extended family, before they all bent elbow and drunk their champagne in one fell swoop.
Julian was then pulled into an tight embrace as Laurent kissed him smack on the lips, which grew into a full-blown sensual experience with caressing tongues, the lingering taste of Laurent's muggle cigarettes which Julian had come to love, and the shared slight sweetness of French champagne.
Given the strict German upbringing of his childhood, it had taken Julian some time to get used to his lover's exuberance and utter flaunting disregard of all rules of propriety. But it had been precisely that freedom of spirit that had first drawn him to his best friend-turned-lover.
When Laurent had been satisfied, the French wizard had slightly pulled apart to whisper softly in Julian's ear, "Je t'adore, mon coeur." And then he had proceeded to pass him along his family and relatives, who congratulated Julian, kissed him on both cheeks and gave him little tokens and gifts, making him feel deeply touched.
The last one was Aurora Bones, who stuck to a traditional English greeting and skipped the kissing on the cheeks, though she did give him a loose hug before patting him on the back.
She didn't release him immediately, however. Instead she leaned forward and murmured, "I would like to speak to you in private, Julian." Then she snapped her head up and waved someone over. "Oh, there he comes."
Julian caught sight of bright magenta robes and saw Albus Dumbledore making his way towards them, briefly pausing here and there to amiably greet acquaintances.
"I have heard much about you, Mr. Erlichmann," said Dumbledore the moment he finally reached them. "It's a true pleasure to finally meet you."
Julian shook the wizard's hand, as he shot the pair a speculative glance. "It's my pleasure too, Mr. Dumbledore."
They exchanged so more polite pleasantries, giving each other leave to be addressed by their first names, before Dumbledore said quietly, "Perhaps we should carry any further conversation to a more private setting. If you will, Julian?"
Casting him a quizzical glance, Julian nodded and started following the pair back to the Palace of Beauxbatons.
They were suddenly waylaid by Laurent, who seemed to have popped from thin air to scowl at his aunt, as he said in a heavily accented English, "And w'ere meeght you be going?"
"We would like to discuss certain things with Julian," retorted Aurora Bones firmly, "in private."
"Wiz Julién, and wizout me? I zink not," said Laurent sharply, instantly looping an arm over Julian's shoulders, as some sort of pointed statement.
Julian felt an undercurrent of tension between nephew and aunt that he couldn't quite decipher, as his gaze turned from one to the other.
"You're most welcome to join us, Mr. Didier," said Dumbledore diplomatically.
"A very wize concezzion from your part, Mr. Dumbledoor," quipped Laurent curtly.
And so the four of them entered Beauxbatons and chose an empty classroom for their impromptu meeting.
Julian was not all that surprised to see Santi already there, having known what would happen and where they would be. He was silent, shimmering as he leaned against a wall, his milky eyes flickering between Julian and Dumbledore.
"I 'ope zis is not what I'm theenking, Aunt," remarked Laurent sternly as he pulled a chair out for Julian and then perched himself on one of the armrests, like some imposing and protective shield-wall. "I told you I didn't vant you to recrute 'im."
Julian arched an eyebrow at that. "Recruit me?"
"Oui!" said Laurent crisply. "Last yeer Aunt Au'o'a started askeeng me very probing questions about you and your fameely, Julién. Of courze, I told her nozing!" He then pointed an accusing finger at his aunt. "I knew vhat she waz sniffing after, and I told 'er in no unzertain terms to back off!"
Dumbledore cleared his throat as he steepled his fingers over the table. "Mr. Didier, we mean no harm to your friend-"
"My lover!" snapped Laurent, glowering at the wizard. "Julién iz my lover, not just my freend. And you do mean 'im 'arm." He gestured at Aurora Bones and Dumbledore, as he turned around to gaze at Julian. "Zey want to recrute you for zis Order of ze Phoenix zey 'ave back in England." He let out a mocking scoff. "Zey're a bunch of Brits zat believe ze new German Minister of Magic iz a Dark Lord!"
Julian stared back at his lover at that, and Laurent's piercing hazel gaze spoke volumes to him. Of course, Laurent was well aware of the truth that the rest of Europe refused to even entertain. He had told him about his family and their involvement with Grindelwald. Laurent knew that the wizard was indeed a Dark Lord, though evidently, his lover didn't want him to admit that before Dumbledore and Aurora Bones.
Shaking his head at Laurent, Julian glanced back at Dumbledore, and said quietly, "I see. Let's not beat around the bush, then. You know my father is one of the Dark Lord's Haupte Kommandaten."
"We do," said Dumbledore, before his expression turned grave. "We had a spy in Grindelwald's middle ranks. He was found out and killed. However, just before it, he was able to send a brief communiqué to me, where he divulged your father's plans for you."
"Wat plans?" demanded Laurent sharply.
Ignoring his lover's outburst, Julian stared fixedly at Dumbledore, as he intoned carefully, "Are you aware of all that it entails?"
"I am," replied Dumbledore softly.
Julian knew it exactly at that moment, when Aurora Bones shot Dumbledore a quizzical glance, while Dumbledore's bespectacled gaze was studying his features closely, a strange expression on the wizard's face - recognition, sadness, pain, but also a firm determination.
Julian exhaled slowly. Yes, Dumbledore knew that they looked alike, and that it was precisely this fact that his own father wanted to exploit, hoping that Grindelwald would fall for it and desire him as a lover. And apparently, given Mrs. Bones' nonplussed expression at that very moment, Dumbledore was keeping that little tidbit for himself.
Of course, neither he or Dumbledore were about to say it openly, so Julian merely nodded, as he said smoothly, "Yes, my father wants me to become Grindelwald's follower."
Laurent's head snapped around so fast that Julian was certain it must have hurt.
"I beg your pa'don?" said Laurent, bristling as he skewered his lover with an angered gaze. "And you refuzed, non?"
"I accepted," said Julian quietly.
"Wat?" snapped Laurent as he stood up to his feet, looking furious. "Wat about Italy? Wat about our plans? Wat about Florenze and Vienna? We've been planneeng it for ages!"
Julian couldn't look at him, so he merely shook his head.
At that, Laurent was quick to swirl around, glaring and pointing an accusing finger at his aunt and Dumbledore. "Zis is all your fault! Au'o'a, I told you neve' to approach 'im-"
"You want me to become your spy, yes?" interrupted Julian, staring straight at Dumbledore.
The wizard slowly nodded at him. "We greatly require your help. As an Erlichmann, you will not be suspected and will have access to Grindelwald himself and his plans." Dumbledore peered at him from the top of his half-moon spectacles. "If you agree to become our spy, we will prepare you for your role, and give you assistance and protection-"
"I must think about this, for a moment," interjected Julian as he rose to his feet, briefly shooting Santi a pointed glance.
The moment Laurent instantly came to his side, with every intention to follow, Julian was quick to say gently, "Alone. I will not be long."
And with that, he left his lover behind, soon hearing Laurent's voice rising and speaking in a furious, fast French as he railed at Dumbledore and his aunt.
Chuckling with fondness under his breath, Julian walked along a corridor, with a silent Santi floating by his side, until he reached the nearest bathroom.
His warm smile faded then, as he opened a faucet and splashed water on his face, to then stare at his own image in the mirror before him.
'Boyishly handsome' is what people had always said about his looks, with his big sky blue eyes and short auburn hair that curled charmingly at the ends. But he saw it clearly: even without the signs of slight age, the crooked, broken nose, and the long hair and beard of Dumbledore, he did look uncannily like the wizard - a young, fresh, new version.
Julian closed his eyes for a brief moment, sighing wearily, before he glanced at Santi, who was silently observing him.
"You knew this would happen," whispered Julian, gazing at him intently. "You didn't tell me the whole truth about what my 'role in the greater scope of things' would be. Not only Grindelwald's lover, but also a spy for Dumbledore and thus a traitor to my own family." His blue eyes narrowed, as he demanded sharply, "What is it that I'm buying now?"
Santi shot him a quizzical glance at that, and Julian gritted out impatiently, "By following my father's wishes and becoming the Dark Lord's lover, you said I would be saving Laurent. So by becoming Dumbledore's spy, what will I be winning?"
"You'll save lives-" began Santi softly.
"Lives of strangers, no doubt!" bit out Julian irritably. "I'm not altruistic – that's not enough for me!"
Santi stared at him fixedly, before he said in a murmur, "You will help Harry."
"Harry," Julian breathed out, startled, before he chuckled wryly under his breath. "Of course. Your 'Harry', my 'Harry'. My actions as a spy will help him, then." He shook his head, rubbing his face before he exhaled softly. "Isn't it strange? All my life I've been hearing about him from you, yet you've never told me anything that is relevant about 'Harry'. Who is he, really, why is he so important, I've asked you, and you've never said."
He closed his eyes, letting out a deep breath as he murmured, "I've never seen him, never met him, and yet, I feel close to him. It is as if we were strangely connected – I feel it, somehow." He shook his head slowly, before he opened his eyes and skewered Santi with his gaze. "I want to know him, to be in his life, to be his 'friend', as I wished when I was a child, to aid him, to know he's safe, to know he's happy, to know he'll have a good life and I'll be in it. And yet, you told me long ago, that I wouldn't be in his life. So why do I care for him?"
He arched an eyebrow at Santi, before he asked poignantly, "That was your reason for filling my mind with thoughts of him since I was a toddler, was it not?" He gestured jerkily at his chest, at his head. "To create this 'connection' to him, that I feel."
"Connection?" muttered Santi, eyeing him weirdly, before he shook his head and added quietly, "I have done nothing to create this connection you speak of." An expression of pensive wonder spread on his shimmering face, as he said slowly, "But I think I might know what it could be. Through Time, sometimes I've observed how two people, whose actions greatly impact each others' lives, become bonded in a way, in a relation of cause and effect, no matter the distance, no matter if they're acquainted or not-"
"I've heard about that before," interjected Julian, frowning. "Theories about the interlinkage among souls, of wizards and witches and magical beings. Do you believe it?"
"Perhaps," said Santi hesitantly.
Julian stared at his life-companion, and pressed on sternly, "Does Harry feel it, the way I do?"
Santi let out a heavy sigh. "If it does exist, if it's true, then he might, probably without realizing what it is – yet unwittingly following what it makes him desire." He glanced at Julian, and added quietly, "He is very sensitive to Magic, more than he should be by innate nature. Yet, at this point, I only know that he will think of you frequently, and that once, he will even save your life, by preventing someone from disclosing to Grindelwald your role as a spy."
"I see," muttered Julian under his breath, before he pinned Santi with a speculative glance. "Will I also be saving Harry's life by being Dumbledore's spy?"
"No," replied Santi shortly, before his voice turned gentle, as he added, "But you will save a group of people who in return will meet Harry, veering him into a path he must take."
"What path?" demanded Julian, feeling a sudden frisson of perturbed worry.
"Answers to many of your questions are awaiting you at Nurmengard," said Santi sternly. "I cannot tell you. You must discover things on your own, at your own time."
"You always say that," mumbled Julian, disgruntled.
In the next second, he squared his shoulders and briefly stared at his own reflection in the mirror, before he said curtly, "Very well, I'll tell Dumbledore what he wants to hear. But I will not truly be his spy until I determine that it's the best thing to do."
Without a second glance at Santi, he strode out of the bathroom. Soon reaching the classroom where the others awaited him, he yanked the door open and said tersely, "I'll do it. I'll be your spy."
Utter chaos ensued after his statement, since Laurent proved to be intractable.
It was Dumbledore who finally rose to his feet and wisely put an end to it, saying courteously, "It's clear you have much to discuss between you in private."
He shook Julian's hand, as he added, "You have my gratitude for hearing our request. We'll be waiting for your decision. You can send Aurora an owl with your answer. If it's favorable, we'll meet again shortly and we'll prepare you."
The two weeks that followed that day were not spent how Julian had initially planned. He and Laurent had stayed in the Didier's summer cottage in Nice, and instead of ardently and passionately making love to each other, they spent it in heated arguments, with Laurent yelling at him, dramatically slamming doors, and hurling vases against walls.
It was just two nights before the day in which Julian had been ordered by his father to return to Germany, that Laurent finally crept into their shared bed.
Julian had stiffened at first, thinking he was going to be yelled at some more, but his lover then hugged him tightly from the back, caressing his curls of hair and pressing soft, yearning kisses along his neck, as he whispered in a quiet French, "I don't want to lose you. So I will accept this. Even though I hate it and fear for you."
Aurora Bones was contacted the morning after and soon they had her and Dumbledore flooing directly into their cottage.
"If Julién iz doing zis," Laurent said warningly the instant the pair stepped into the parlor, "I vant to be involved."
Mrs. Bones and Dumbledore shared a glance, and Julian knew they had anticipated that much and that it satisfied them greatly.
"These are Bones heirlooms that will prove quite useful," said Aurora as she handed a pair of beautiful crystal figurines in the shape of doves, one for Julian, the other for Laurent. She then glanced at her nephew, as she added sternly, "You must go to Florence and apprentice under Migliani, as you had planned." She gestured at the doves in their hands, as she continued, "Through these, Julian can send you letters and even flasks with his memories, of things he sees, battle plans he finds and such…"
She demonstrated by conjuring a piece of rolled parchment and an empty vial. Muttering an incantation at one of the doves, it opened its beak and swallowed the parchment and flask, only for them to float out of the beak of the twin dove in the next second, both objects then gently landing on the table.
Aurora Bones glanced at Julian. "It will not be suspicious if you are sending letters to your closest friend of Beauxbatons. You can even say that your dove is Laurent's parting gift to you. Yet, to your reports to us, you will need to charm them with an encryption spell, that will make it look as if you were writing merely about day-to-day anecdotes, innocent narrations not related to your missions as one of Grindelwald's followers. Then, from Florence, Laurent will send your letters and flasks by owl to me."
She proceeded to teach them the incantation for the doves, and to Julian, as well, the encryption spell. Of course, Laurent was quick to demand to know it too.
Fortunately, Dumbledore had firmly refused. Julian certainly didn't want Laurent to ever hear anything about him becoming the Dark Lord's lover.
After that, Julian and Dumbledore had spent the rest of the day alone, as the wizard taught him many spells that would aid him in his spying activities, whilst giving him instructions on the issues he wanted to know most about.
It was clear what Julian's main mission was: study the powerful wards of Nurmengard, report on their characteristics so that Dumbledore would find spells to disable them, at which point, Julian would receive detailed instructions of how to bring the wards down so that certain prisoners in the dungeons could make their escape with Julian's aid.
"The day you free them," Dumbledore had said before he left the cottage, "you must come to Hogwarts, Julian. Laurent will be alerted and he will be waiting for you there. I'll make sure you're both protected so that you may carry on with your lives without fear of Grindelwald's vengeance."
Julian nodded, even when he knew it would never come to happen. And then, something just made him say the next words. Perhaps he wanted some tacit acknowledgement from Dumbledore, for the wizard to reveal that he knew exactly what he was sending Julian to do - what he would be for the Dark Lord, if his father was right.
"Gellert, not 'Grindelwald'," he murmured quietly, piercing Dumbledore with his gaze. "He's Gellert to you, is he not?"
Dumbledore started, looking momentarily taken aback, before he stared at him fixedly and gave him a long, considering look.
"He was Gellert to me, a long time ago," Dumbledore said at last, his voice turning soft and gentle, as he added with a hint of worry, "Do not let him be Gellert to you, my boy."
Those were the last words Julian would ever hear from Dumbledore in person. It was the last time he ever saw him.
The last day, when he parted from Laurent, was very hard for him. Santi had insisted he should break it off before leaving for Germany, but Julian hadn't been able to do it.
He preferred his own way of letting Laurent know their relationship was over: at some point, he would just send reports and flasks of his memories through the dove, not personal letters to Laurent. His lover would understand what it meant but he would be in Florence, unable to do anything about it. After all, someone who wasn't Grindelwald's follower couldn't find Nurmengard.
"He could end up doing something foolish," Santi had insisted sternly, "if he suddenly stops receiving letters from you."
"If I tell him now that my father intends to make me the Dark Lord's lover," interjected Julian tiredly, "he will do something foolish. I know him. He'll just kidnap me and take me to some remote corner of the world and my father will find us – you're the one who warned me about it!" He then shot him a demanding glance. "Do you know for a fact that Laurent will do something dangerous that might get him killed?"
"No," Santi grudgingly admitted. "Yet I still think-"
"Enough said, then."
Armed with valor and determination, Julian finally returned to his country of birth. His parents received him just as he had expected, going straight to business, instructing him what he should say and how he should behave when he was presented to Grindelwald, what robes he would wear, what platitudes and praises to speak.
Three days later, his eighteenth birthday was celebrated which much pomp in the Erlichmann's ancestral and palatial estate amidst the dense forests and peaking mountains near the German border with Austria.
La crème de la crème of dark wizarding society of Europe were invited, with the 'German Minister of Magic' as the guest of honor, of course.
However, Julian hadn't been prepared for the encounter.