Twist of Fate

by FirePhoenix8

Harry is taken the night Dumbledore is about to leave him with the Dursleys. With forces meddling in the timeline, Harry and Tom become the Riddle brothers. Follow the boys from the 1930s, WWII & Grindelwald, to canon years and a much changed future. Slash.

51. Part I: Chapter 50

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. Any original plots, ideas, and characters are mine.

AN:

I'm sorry it's been over a month since I updated, I've been so busy I didn't have the chance. But finally, here it is, and to make it up to you it's a very long chapter! I hope you enjoy ^_^

Italics – all foreign languages. German in this chapter.

Note: I've created several new POLLS in my Yahoo Group. Check them out!

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Part I: Chapter 50

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Julian Erlichmann had broken communications with Dumbledore a month ago. He realized later that having destroyed his dove glass figurine had been a stupid move, an act of both desperation and despair, of futilely trying to mend matters, too late.

It had come to happen that the letters he received from Laurent through the set of dove figurines each of them possessed had began to contain pleas for explanations.

Julian had known it would reach that point sooner or latter. Of course Laurent would hear rumors about the nature of Julian's relationship with Gellert Grindelwald, of course Laurent would begin to write demanding the truth, of course that Julian wouldn't feel able to outright lie to him, no matter how in subsequent letters Laurent had achingly promised that he only wanted the truth, that if Julian had been forced into intimacy with the Dark Lord that Laurent wouldn't hold it against him, that he only wanted him back.

It had been many years since they had last seen each other after all. Laurent had already finished his apprenticeship under the renowned wizarding painter Migliani and was making a name for himself, taking commissions to paint the portraits of rich, fat pureblood ladies and their pets or spawns, of creating artistic moving mosaics for the lavish homes of the indolent and wealthy, and such.

It had come the time for them to begin their lives together, as had been the promise and deal between them when Julian had left France for Germany.

That was all Laurent wanted, the French wizard had desperately reiterated in his letters, for Julian to be done with his role as Dumbledore's spy – 'you've done more than enough already, Julién'- for him to flee far away from Grindelwald –'before the Dark Lord learns of our plans, mon cher'- to finally go to Hogwarts so they could meet each other and commence a new life together – 'as Dumbledore promised we would, in repayment to your service to him. He vouched he would protect us from any repercussions'.

Laurent's words had become so heart-wrenchingly painful to him that Julian had finally cast a spell at his glass dove, blasting it to pieces, so that he would never receive another letter again.

He thought it would do no harm since he had already used it to convey Grindelwald's plans for Norway to Dumbledore, had even told about the night Grindelwald had stood at the top of Nurmengard Tower, with arms spread and wand in hand, the magic flowing out of him creating a storm of haze and violent winds and swirling black clouds, the Dark Lord's voice loud and ecstatic as he chanted in an ancient, obscure language.

Julian and the Haupte Kommandaten had witnessed it with wide, fascinated eyes, as Grindelwald's voice rose and fused with the storm, to be carried throughout the land in the winds and thunders that wrecked the continent in the days to come.

The Dark Lord had spoken in the tongue of Necromancers, Julian's father had whispered to him in awed breathlessness, the language that could be understood by one type of magical creatures.

Indeed, in the following days, Dementors had slowly appeared in the forests surrounding Nurmengard Tower, like legions of black phantoms awaiting the feast of souls that Grindelwald's voice had promised to them in exchange for their allegiance.

The creatures had trickled in from all corners of Europe, except those of England, who seemed happy enough with their arrangement with the British Ministry of Magic which allowed them to feed from the prisoners of Azkaban.

Thus, Julian had done his duty and informed Dumbledore that there were not only Inferi living in Nurmengard's forest but also innumerable Dementors, to be used in the conquest of Norway and all the raids to come thereafter.

"You shouldn't have done that," Santi had remarked dourly when he had seen the remains of the destroyed glass dove.

"I have nothing more to report to Dumbledore," Julian interjected sharply, turning around to face his old friend, as he then gestured at a heavily warded drawer of his desk. "And he has nothing more he can give me."

Indeed, by then, he already had in his possession a pouch of galleons that had been sent through the doves by Albus Dumbledore, safely locked in his desk until the time he would need to use them.

Finally, Dumbledore had been true to his word and had created the portkeys that would allow Julian to free the Jewish prisoners of Nurmengard.

It had taken years, for Julian to fully describe the intricate layers of powerful wards of the Tower and for Dumbledore to come up with the spells and incantations that would allow him to create portkeys that would work, temporarily disabling the magic of Nurmengard's wards, so that the Jews would be swept away when Julian handed the activated galleons to them.

One of the galleons was meant for Julian.

That was what Dumbledore intended. Most importantly, what Laurent Didier was counting on.

Yet, Laurent didn't know about The Globe in Grindelwald's office. Yet, Dumbledore had found no way of destroying such artifact from afar, or of coming up with a way in which Julian could do it himself.

Hence, Julian had preferred to leave his beloved wholly ignorant of the fact that there would be no 'life together' for them, that wherever they went, they would be found. That Dumbledore had lied when promising freedom after a few years of Julian's spying activities.

Dumbledore hadn't seen fit to inform Laurent of his inability to truly help them, Julian hadn't seen fit to tell his lover that their plans for their future life together were a pipe dream.

"It's not Dumbledore's reaction which worries me when he realizes you have broken ties with him," Santi said sharply, shooting him a pointed look. "It's Laurent's. He will do something foolish." His gaze became hard and reprimanding. "You should have ended it with him ages ago-"

"You know why I didn't," interrupted Julian somberly, his chest aching, because he had purposely strung Laurent along, because the wizard's letters had sustained him with their delusions of a happy life, because he had needed to fool himself several times since becoming Gellert's follower and bed warmer, and because he was too cowardly to crush Laurent's hopes and dreams as well.

He had reassured himself that Laurent would understand what it meant when he realized he could no longer reach Julian through their set of glass doves. That Laurent would be able to understand its significance – that Julian had no wish of hearing from him and the matter should not be pressed.

"You've done him more harm than good," Santi had declared as he shook his head at Julian.

Furthermore, it had been just a week ago when Grindelwald had revealed his true plans. Julian didn't think he would ever forget, for it had also been the day he had severed all ties with his father.

That day had already commenced with many misgivings for Julian. He had attended a meeting in the Reichstag, as always masquerading as Grindelwald's private secretary before the top echelon of Nazi hierarchy.

Konrad Von Krauss' presence among them hadn't surprised him either. Since the wizard's return from England nearly three years ago, the man had swiftly risen in the Nazi ranks, as a budding leader winning much trust among his 'peers'.

Indeed, it had been Grindelwald's plan all along to make Von Krauss pose as a dutiful true Aryan in order to have the wizard directly influencing matters from within the Nazi ranks.

Konrad Von Krauss hadn't even required a different name or identity given that his name alone was German-sounding enough and his looks were decidedly the epitome of pure Aryan blood. Only a few forged papers displaying a purely muggle German ancestry, and some minds nudged so that several muggle Nazi officers 'remembered' Konrad Von Krauss having been an SS officer during such and such years or a soldier in that and that time, and it was done.

Certainly, Julian knew that not one of them would ever remember having seen or heard of Konrad and Gellert the moment the Dark Lord was done with his puppets, but it had been impressive nonetheless, how easily Konrad Von Krauss had become one of the bunch.

Not that Konrad Von Krauss was at all pleased that he had spent the last few years amongst muggles, pretending to be one himself, but as always, the wizard obeyed Grindelwald's wishes without complaint and with perfect efficiency.

Thus, Julian had seen Konrad Von Krauss seated between the Reich Minister of Propaganda Goebbels and Hitler's right hand man Himmler, chatting and joking amicably with them as if they were all long lost friends.

Indeed, the usual attendees for such meetings were all present, although the Führer himself was conspicuously absent as he had been as of lately.

"Our dearest Führer is with the lovely Eva Braun in a charming Bavarian castle," whispered Grindelwald to him, his hawk-like eyes gleaming with playful wickedness. "I might have 'suggested' that he was in dire need of some holidays."

Julian frowned at that, as he replied in an undertone, "His minions will still inform him of what's decided in this meeting."

"They will, once we have made all the decisions for him," interjected Grindelwald with a soft chortle, as he patted Julian on one knee under the table. "There is no need for his input. It's best for cooler heads to prevail and for those wiser than him to decide such matters."

Julian had began thinking that perhaps Grindelwald's tinkering with the muggle's mind with the use of Legilimency might have already caused some irreparable injuries, or at least addled the muggle's brain.

Indeed, Herr Hitler seemed more disposed of spending all his time ensconced in his office with his pet architect Albert Speer, going through plans of how to reconstruct Berlin on a grand scale, with magnificent monuments, grand, imposing buildings, and wide boulevards and promenades, all to reflect the glory of the Reich's superior culture, than in actually governing his empire or plotting battles.

"He's still an artist at heart," Grindelwald had once remarked with a crooked smirk, "like in the day when I found him peddling water-colored postcards in the streets of Vienna in exchange for coins. Never did he get over the fact that the Vienna Academy of Fine Arts rejected his application." The wizard's eyes had gleamed as he added with a hint of amusement, "But I did see the potential in him when I bought a charming watercolor from him, did I not? Only he can match me in oratory skills, even though our methods vastly differ."

Julian had wisely kept his mouth shut at that, knowing that Grindelwald took great pride in his ability to easily sway the masses with his charms and boyishly mischievous airs, while Hitler seemed to have just the same success in rousing the masses with speeches filled with rage and impassioned anger and violent self-righteousness regarding the German people's right to reclaim what they had lost after the Great War.

It wasn't until Eichmann was giving a lengthy report, that Julian began to pay true attention to the meeting, his unease rising with every word uttered.

It was Eichmann, after all, who had been tasked with the duty of organizing the deportation of Jews to the ghettos of the various cities of the countries that had been conquered. It had been Eichmann who had once posed the problem of overcrowding, of the expense of feeding the Jews with the scant potatoes and the dry loafs of bread they were being given.

"We barely have the resources to feed our own troops," the muggle had griped sourly, "much less the filthy Jews that keep procreating like rats."

And that had been the chance that Grindelwald had been waiting for, as he magnanimously offered a simple solution.

"Concentration camps?" Himmler had echoed, giving Grindelwald a pensive, considering look.

"It could be feasible," muttered Goebbels, the Reich's Minister of Propaganda quick to always see the positive and logical spin that could be given to any decision taken. "Like the concentration camps the British used in the Anglo-Boer War."

"Like the Dachau camp for political dissidents," someone else had pipped in.

"Indeed, like all of those!" Grindelwald had gushed in a cheery tone of voice as he clapped his hands together, looking at his puppets with an expression of admiration for their brilliancy. "Like Joseph Stalin is doing in his own country, like countless nations have done all throughout history. Certainly, none will fault us if we Germans do the same. Will they?"

And so the preparations had begun, with Eichmann appointed to see to the logistics required to set innumerable camps all throughout the conquered territories and the matter of the transportation of the 'undesirable' components of society: the Jews, the homosexuals, the prisoners of war, the physically disabled or mentally challenged, the gypsies, and the priests and political dissidents who had been openly opposing the Reich's measures.

Which then led to the idea of establishing camps near factories, to count with forced labor, slaves in truth, who would build the weapons and machinery required in the war with no expense for the government.

Julian had been composed all throughout those meetings, since he had known about Grindelwald's intentions beforehand. Indeed, he still remembered the day in which the Dark Lord had had his inspiration, and the 'ironic' source of it.

Yet nothing had prepared him for the meeting of a week ago when Himmler had opened the discussion with, "Doctors Mengele and Wirths, among several others, are interested in carrying on several scientific experiments in some of the camps…"

"It's not medical experimentation," Julian had whispered to Grindelwald the moment they had stepped out of the Reichstag, his stomach churning so sickly he had been about to hurl several times during the presentation of the ideas. "It's inhumane torture!"

Experiments on twin children, which was planned to entail the injection of different dyes into the eyes of twins to see whether it would change their colors, to sewing twins together in attempts to create conjoined twins.

Grisly tests to study the bone, muscle, and nerve regeneration, and bone transplantation from one person to another.

The study of head injuries by inducing them through blunt trauma such as having a mechanized hammer that every few seconds would come down upon a prisoner's head, to see if it induced insanity or whatever other consequences.

Freezing experiments, inducing hypothermia by sinking the test subject in a tank of icy water for several hours, to discover a means to prevent and treat it.

Infection of malaria by mosquitoes, to test which drugs could be used to counter the disease in the prisoners.

Exposure to mustard gas to discover which treatment could heal the terrible chemical burns.

Sulfonamide experiments, infecting the test subjects with several types of bacteria or causing wounds by cutting off circulation, by employing wood shavings or shards of glass, to see if such battle-like injuries could be treated with the sulfonamide drug. Or experiments with poisons and incendiary bombs.

Tests giving parched prisoners nothing to drink but salt water in an attempt to find a way to make seawater drinkable.

Sterilization experiments for the purpose of developing a method that could sterilize millions of people with a minimum of time and effort, conducted by the means of radiation and X-rays, surgery, and intravenous injections of drugs.

Along with high altitude experiments that consisted of sticking a person in low-pressure chambers to simulate conditions as that of German pilots who had to eject from their airplanes at high altitudes.

And so the list went…

Many muggle terms had flown over his head, but Julian had still comprehended the gist of every type of 'experiment' and he was still reeling. He had never heard of anything so wholly horrifying, that could have only been concocted in the most twisted, perverted, crazed, and sadistic minds.

"Indeed it is," said Grindelwald nonchalantly. "Never fear, I have my own reasons for convincing Himmler to allow Konrad to have a hand in it."

That was precisely what had left Julian inwardly gaping when the Dark Lord had suggested for Konrad Von Krauss to work alongside Himmler, and the physicians in the Nazi ranks, on the matter of establishing 'hospital wings' in some of the camps.

"We'll discuss it in Nurmengard," the Dark Lord had added gently, "now go see your father. He has some news and he's awaiting you in your chambers."

Thoroughly confused, Julian had done so, apparating directly to his bedroom to be confronted by his father.

As always, Egon Erlichmann had presented an imposing figure in his impeccable, rich wizarding robes and stern expression on his face.

Without any further ado, and wasting no time in greetings or polite conversation, the wizard had stated sharply, "I'll be gone for some time to carry on a mission for the Dark Lord. In my absence, you'll be the Head of family. Take care of your mother and do not let me down, boy."

Julian dutifully nodded, before he was quick to ask, "What mission?"

"I have to spy on a muggle scientist," Egon Erlichmann spat contemptuously, his distaste for the assignment clear in his voice as his expression soured. "Some Jew expatriate who fled Europe some years ago and is now residing in America. Stein or something of the sort."

A laugh coming from one corner of the room made Julian turn his head to see Santi glowing in all his magnificence, looking vastly amused as he kept chuckling under his breath.

Obviously not being able to see or hear him, Egon continued in his harsh tone of voice, "Several of the Dark Lord's followers are also being sent to spy on other scientists and some muggle generals of the Americans' army."

Julian stared at him with baffled curiosity. "Whatever for?"

"To gain knowledge regarding a muggle project of some sort," snapped his father with annoyance. "Do not ask me more. The Dark Lord will inform you of the details if he sees fit."

Egon Erlichmann approached the desk as he continued, his voice turning harsher and sterner, as he plucked out a phial from his robes, "I want you to drink this before I leave."

Julian stared at the flask that his father set on the table, instantly recognizing the contents, its color and consistency unmistakable.

All color left his face as he stared at his father with an expression on immense disbelief.

"A Breeder Potion," said Julian at last, his voice hoarse and his throat painfully dry. "No."

"You will do as you're told." Egon Erlichmann narrowed his eyes at him. "You know the consequences if you do not."

"I did as you wished," whispered Julian, staring at his father with a wounded, incredulous look of betrayal on his face. "I became the Dark Lord's boytoy. Against all expectations, I even managed to remain his lover for years, and I still retain his interest in me." He pointed a finger at the vial. "This, I will not do."

"Lovers come and go," interjected Egon in a steely tone of voice. "Heirs do not. Provide the Dark Lord with one and-"

"No," said Julian quietly, his throat constricting as he pierced his father with his eyes. "Get out."

"You will rue this," stated Egon softly, before he turned heel and briskly left the chambers.

The moment the wizard was gone, Julian felt his shaking knees giving way and he precariously landed on a chair, his eyes wide with the enormity of what had happened.

"Julian?" murmured Santi concernedly as he crouched on the floor before him, peering up to watch his face as though wanting to ascertain his state of mind. "Are you well?"

"You realize what it means?" croaked out Julian hoarsely, staring down into his friend's milky eyes.

"I do," muttered Santi grimly. "I've known you since you were a toddler. I understand the nuisances of your interaction with your family."

Julian nodded distractedly. That confrontation was as violent as it could get between his father and him. Egon was not a wizard who yelled or raged. Erlichmans did not resort to passionate displays of anger, nor theatrics or dramatics with each other. Julian's open and direct refusal was as good as if he had spat on his father's face.

"He will strike me from the family's records," mumbled Julian numbly, "from the treeline, from his will. And my mother will side with him. I will be a stranger to her. And I will be an enemy to him."

"He will not dare to openly disown you," interjected Santi in a soft, soothing tone of voice.

"He won't, because I'm still Grindelwald's favorite. My father still has much to gain through the connection," breathed out Julian, before he shook his head. "But you don't understand. I feel no sorrow."

He heaved a deep breath, and before he realized it, he was laughing loudly, so incessantly and hard, that tears sprung from his eyes and he didn't seem able to stop.

Santi eyed him with great apprehension at that, until Julian was able to explain between choked, miserable chortles, "It has taken me twenty-four years to understand how he saw me. To realize that he doesn't really care for me, just what he can obtain through me. Twenty-four years to be able to finally say NO!"

"Most heirs of dark pureblood families like yourself," intoned Santi gently, as he pated him on a knee, "are never brave enough, nor dare, to oppose their parents-"

"Yes, I know!" choked out Julian in between half-crazed sniggers. "I always thought it would devastate me if I ever disappointed Father. But I feel free." His sky blue eyes shone as he locked gazes with Santi. "Finally free from the yoke of familial duty, but I should have done it ages ago, Santiago – when it mattered, when I was in Beauxbatons and had Laurent, when it would have meant that I could have the life I desired. Now, it only means that I'm free in my isolation. I have no one left except you."

Santi shot an encouraging, gorgeous smile at him. "Not only me. You will soon have-"

"That mysterious witch who will love me deeply," parroted Julian in a tedious monotone as he rolled his eyes, "and who will give me great solace."

"A comfort of sorts, yes," said Santi grinning as he pulled Julian to his feet. "You should get going. Grindelwald and Von Krauss are waiting for you in the Dark Lord's study."

Julian was nearly passing through the threshold before he turned around, and inquired with curiosity, "Why did you laugh? Who is Stein?"

Santi snorted disparagingly. "Your father had it wrong. It's not 'Stein' but Einstein."

"Who?" Julian blinked at him.

"A muggle who has become famous in the scientific community," said Santi, grinning as if vastly amused by it all. "Indeed, he will be the most renowned in muggle history, as famous as his hairdo."

Julian gawked at him in utter incomprehension. "Hairdo? What does a muggle's hairstyle have to do-"

"It will be iconic," piped in Santi jovially, before his expression turned serious and somber, as he added in a murmur, "Indeed, he possesses such brilliance that I've been tempted on several occasions to reveal myself to him the times I've observed him working."

"You have?" said Julian, utterly taken aback, knowing how significant that was. Santi had only ever showed himself to him and Harry, after all, and his reasons for that were insurmountable, he knew well. "Why? Why is this Einstein muggle so important?"

"To me," replied Santi with a deep sigh, "because before his death he will develop his Unified Field Theory, his life's greatest pursuit to unify all the fundamental forces, general relativity and gravitation, electromagnetism and quantum mechanics, and all the other laws of physics, as aspects of a single entity. Yet, he will die knowing he failed because the one component that eludes him, that he cannot understand or fathom and has no way of knowing, the one factor missing from his theory, is Magic." He shot him a pained, wry look. "He will know there's something there, that explains it all, yet in defeat he will call it 'nature' or the touch of 'God', as muggles often resort to when beholding the explainable and unknown."

Julian gaped at him, not having understood a single word, yet he was thunderstruck by what it revealed. It had never crossed his mind that Santi could have been searching for answers in the Muggle World, but it was evident that he had, extensively, as he seemed to utterly understand the concepts he had spoken about.

"So…" began Julian tentatively, "you believe that this Unified Field Theory could aid you in some way?"

"Certainly," said Santi calmly. "If he was able to fully develop it successfully, he would discover that his theoretical possibility of time-travel through a singularity in the space-time continuum is very much a reality."

Julian's eyes widened in vague understanding, as he breathed out, "Time-travel. You think he could give you the answers you've been looking for? Of what happened to you, of what you are, and-"

"If anyone can, he does," muttered Santi dully. "Why, I would only need to give him a sample of the Sands of Times for him to study. And with my assistance and input, I believe that in some years he could come up with the explanation and the solution."

"Then do it," exclaimed Julian vehemently. "Reveal yourself to this muggle!"

Santi chuckled mirthlessly under his breath. "To tell him about me is to tell him about the Magical World."

"So what?" snapped Julian in a hard tone of voice. "You're willing to let escape your only chance just to protect the secrecy of our kind – for the 'Greater Good' of the Wizarding World?" He violently shook his head. "If there's one thing I've come to learn is that the Greater Good does not matter."

Indeed, after years of having been subjected to the measures that both Dumbledore and Grindelwald were willing to take to pursue their own differing views of what the 'Greater Good' consisted of, he had concluded that in fact neither of them had the right to decide such. Their magical prowess and powers didn't entitle them to judge what the rest of the world needed.

Oh, he knew from personal experience that Santi could be just as ruthless in using people to reach his own aims, yet Santi didn't do it out of self-righteous, high-handed thoughts of how the world should be.

He did it out of longing, desire, need for companionship, and love, for Harry. And Julian could understand that, could relate and sympathize, because he had done the same, for Laurent.

"Only individuals matter," said Julian sharply, "and you're a fool if you don't use this muggle." His sky blue eyes narrowed at him. "If it was Harry who wanted it to happen, you would do it no matter the consequences."

"Perhaps," said Santi with a chuckle. "But by the time that Harry will wish for such explanations, Einstein will be long dead and of no use."

Taking a deep intake of air, deciding to let the issue rest for the time being, Julian broached the most pertinent matter-at-hand, as he frowned with puzzlement. "And Grindelwald is interested in the muggle's research? In some kind of 'project', as Father said?"

"Yes," replied Santi coolly. "Einstein's discoveries in nuclear fission are being used in what's being called the Manhattan Project by those who are in the secret."

"Secret?" muttered Julian, his frown deepening. "Why is it a secret? What's nuclear fission?"

"You'll soon understand," said Santi shortly, waving him off so that he would make haste.

Julian did, though after the meeting with Grindelwald and Von Krauss he wished he had not.

"If the muggles are using the opportunity to carry on several useful experiments, so should we," Konrad Von Krauss had begun, and Julian had soon realized that the wizard, with Grindelwald's approval and consent, had been working on the matter for some time.

Indeed, Konrad Von Krauss had a long list compiled from the Healers and Magical Theorists and such in the Dark Lord's ranks that were salivating at the chance of testing their ideas on human subjects.

There were of all sorts, from wanting to continue several aspects of Salazar Slytherin's unconcluded research –needing mudbloods, halfbloods, and purebloods as test subjects- to see what was the cause of loss of magical powers in the breedings between the different types, to tests to discover the cause for infertility or the birth of squibs in pureblooded lines, to modifying the Cruciatus Curse so that it wouldn't snap the mind of the victim in minutes but rather be sustained for hours, thus making it more efficient for torture, to creating an Avada Kedavra variant that would not kill instantly but prologue the moment of death for a period of time that would feel like a limbo of maddening utter sensory loss, to an Imperius Curse that could be cast not at one individual but at a mass of people, to finding a way of stealing a mudbloods' magic and a method so that it could be used in squibs of pureblooded families to make them magical, as well as creating spells that could make wizards permanently posses useful traits of magical creatures, like the petrifying eyes of Gorgons, a skin that sprouted dragon scales that would shield the wizard from most curses and spells, wings of hippogriffs as limbs in the back that could tuck themselves inside the body when not being used, and ever more bizarre ideas of the kind.

It didn't involve vivisecting living brains, sewing people together and the sort, like in the Nazi's experimentations, but it was certain that all the ideas entailed immense agony for the 'test subjects' if not outright death or unnatural body modifications.

"It's too late now to change my plans for the Norwegian Ministry of Magic, but there will be plenty of raids after it," said Grindelwald pensively. "We will take prisoners from the subsequent Ministries we'll conquer. They will serve as test subjects." He shot Julian a pointed look. "As will some of the Jews in my dungeons. Maybe witnessing what their muggle counterparts are suffering at the hands of the Nazis will loosen their tongues."

"My Lord," said Julian quietly, careful of not displaying any of the immense alarm and horror he was truly feeling, "I believe I'm making progress in my torture of them. I believe some are about to break and will tell me anything they know regarding the Guardians of the Vessel."

"You've had your chance, Erlichmann," interjected Konrad Von Krauss sharply, his tone as piercing as shards of ice, as his pale blue eyes narrowed with contempt and despise at him.

"Now, now," chided Grindelwald gently as he let out a chortle, "no need for verbal aggression." He smiled indulgently at Julian. "Do continue your work with them if it entertains you, mein Edelstein, but some will be taken and carted off to the concentration camps as soon as Konrad isolates sections of the camps with magical wards." He addressed Von Krauss, as he added in a commanding tone of voice, "Muggle and wizarding experimentation will be carried on in different buildings in the camps. I do not need to tell you that the Statute of Secrecy must prevail in the concentration camps as well."

Feeling as if he was grasping at straws, Julian interjected swiftly, "The camps will be dismantled the moment the Nazis lose the war, will they not, My Lord? No proof will be left behind."

"Lose?" bit out Konrad Von Krauss virulently. "The muggle Germans will not fail-"

"They will," interrupted Julian, purposely widening his sky blue eyes as he shot Grindelwald a glance. "It is your plan, is it not, My Lord?"

"Indeed it is," said Gellert, casting him a proud, affectionate look before he scowled at Von Krauss with annoyance. "Truly, Konrad, how many times have you heard me say that the Wizarding War is a sideshow, and the Muggle War a sideshow of a sideshow? If Julian has been able to fathom my underlying plans, surely you can as well."

"I'm well aware that finding the Vessel is your true quest, My Lord," muttered Von Krauss deferentially, before the corner of his pale eyes crinkled. "Yet I had not envisioned that you would allow your Nazis to be defeated, for our country to be invaded by foreign powers, as will surely come to happen if-"

"As Julian seems to understand and you not," interjected Grindelwald in an incisive and impatient tone of voice, "I have no wish to deal with a muggle empire of any sort." He waved his hand dismissively. "Muggles will be best controlled and conquered when they inhabit their own independent and divided nations as they continue to squabble with each other."

"Surely," said Konrad Von Krauss, his voice becoming firm, "a muggle empire, if German, would be a positive outcome, easily controlled indeed."

"No," retorted Grindelwald harshly, narrowing his hawk-like eyes at his Right Hand. "Do not let your patriotism and pride in our German breeding cloud your judgment, Konrad."

Julian made a show of nodding at that, as he remarked in the most innocent tone of voice he could muster, "Precisely. Thus, perhaps the camps should not be dismantled after all?" He shot Grindelwald a pensive look. "Perhaps plenty of proof should be left behind regarding their experimentation on prisoners?"

"Quite." The crooked smirk Grindelwald graced him with was filled with satisfaction, appreciation, yet also a hint of tenderness. And Julian smiled back at him.

Long gone were the days in which his chest ached at every show of true affection Gellert gave him, of the conflicting, warring emotions, when he basked in the enjoyment and glory of knowing that the man he had come to love was able to return such feelings, yet also suffering the crushing weight of the guilt and remorse and self-flagellation that came with those thoughts: not only that he was capable of having deep feelings for someone like Gellert, but that all the while he was doing his best to thwart him, that he would ultimately betray him in the most hurtful, unforgivable way.

Julian was well aware that his name would be spat and reviled in the lips of every dark pureblood in the world. And that he would hurt Grindelwald immensely, and for it, the wizard would be brutal and merciless in his revenge.

Indeed, his bouts of deep depression, or of wondering if his love for Gellert was a natural, sincere emotion or the twisted, hideous love that a broken prisoner held for his jailer, did not haunt him anymore.

Julian had come to simply enjoy what he could get, of living in the moment without allowing himself to feel torment. Of accepting the feelings of love for Gellert when he felt them, of inwardly hating him without remorse on other occasions. Of steadfastly loving Laurent all the while, with no thoughts that he was being disloyal to one or the other.

He had taken to heart what Santi had told him long ago, and grasped the chances for joy without any other considerations, for his life was soon to end.

"If proof is left for others to find," interjected Konrad Von Krauss in clipped tones, "German honor will be forever besmirched."

Julian rejoiced at that, as his improvised plot finally gave fruit. Indeed, he had counted on Von Krauss' disproportionate pureblood German pride to find offense with Gellert's intentions, in the hopes that perhaps the wizard would finally oppose the Dark Lord's plans of shipping captured wizards, and most importantly, the Jews in the dungeons, to the camps.

"Muggle German honor," bit out Grindelwald harshly. "I have no intention of letting anyone know about the wizarding experimentations."

"Muggle or not, it is German honor nonetheless," pressed Von Krauss obstinately, his pale eyes narrowing.

Grindelwald gave him a look of immense exasperation, before he crookedly smirked at them smugly. "Do you not realize, my dear Konrad, the effect that such revelations will have on the Wizarding World?"

At that, Julian glanced at him, his frown deep and musing, while Konrad's expression cleared with sudden understanding.

"I see," muttered the wizard, to then remain silent.

Not liking the unexpected turn, Julian was quick to intone politely, "My Lord?"

Grindelwald chuckled softly under his breath. "Why, mein Edelstein, I would have thought it was obvious. The whole Wizarding World will see the atrocities muggles are able to commit against those of their own kind who are different, who are envied, or feared, or feel threatened by. Those they blame for their failures, weaknesses, and inadequacies. Thus, they will know just how brutally muggles would retaliate against us if they ever discovered our existence."

"It will be an effective lesson, My Lord," muttered Konrad Von Krauss, his tone becoming admiring with approval. "Well worth the loss of the muggle German honor and the defeat and invasion of the muggle cities of our country, if wizarding kind comes to finally comprehend the need to utterly subjugate muggles to our rule and squash all muggle threat."

"Exactly," said Grindelwald looking vastly self-satisfied. "I knew you would come to understand my reasoning, Konrad."

"I do, My Lord," said Von Krauss, bowing his head low. "Forgive my previous doubts and impertinent questioning."

Grindelwald chuckled as he fondly patted the wizard on a shoulder. "No harm done."

Julian's pulse quickened with frantic apprehension, yet he didn't have the chance to attempt any subtle dissuasion.

"And you do as well, I trust," said Grindelwald, arching an eyebrow at him. "Your father must have apprised you of what I've sent him and several others to do."

Julian frowned, though he was careful to voice his words with nothing but deferential curiosity. "He would not fully disclose the details of his mission, My Lord."

"As tight-lipped with you as always, I see," intoned Gellert looking tickled by the forever tense relationship between father and son. "It's simple enough." His lips stretched into a wide, self-satisfied smirk. "The American muggles are developing a weapon that will be capable of incinerating countless in the blink of an eye. 'Mass destruction' I believe they call such things."

"A weapon?" Julian stared at him in utter befuddlement, realizing that Konrad Von Krauss didn't look at all surprised. The wizard had certainly known about the matter beforehand.

"A bomb," clarified Grindelwald, his hawk-like eyes gleaming. "It will be called 'atomic bomb'."

Julian stupidly blinked at him. "A what?"

"It disintegrates matter, or makes matter split itself, or some along those lines," said Grindelwald dismissively. "I do not know the particulars as of yet." His handsome face became suddenly suffused with a feverish gleam of appreciation and satisfaction. "I do know that the detonation caused can devastate an entire city with a blast, like a split-second of an uncontrolled fiendfyre burning everything in its path to cinders. The white glow it emits as powerful and beautiful as a bursting sun!"

By mere chance, Julian noticed from the corner of his eyes the quick darting look that Konrad Von Krauss gave to the Dark Lord's pensive, several feet away from them, innocently set on a table.

As horrifyingly entranced as he was by Grindelwald's description, he then realized that Gellert had actually seen it – in Sybilla Spyros' memories of her visions of a future.

From Santi, he knew that Von Krauss knew about the memories but had never seen them himself. Yet, Julian was not supposed to know at all, so he was swift to focus back on Grindelwald, as the wizard continued.

"And the smoke!" Gellert crowed with jovial laughter as he shot his hands to the air. "Like billowing black clouds that rise to the heavens and can be seen from a country away." His smirk became impossibly wide as he gazed at them, his voice an exultant, low whisper, as he added,"And yet, the muggles will never know the most grisly effect of their invention. It does not only kill life and body, it annihilates the soul of its victims."

"Monstrous," croaked out Konrad Von Krauss, his face paper white, his hands suddenly shaking, as he kept staring at the Dark Lord with pale, wide eyes.

Julian had never seen such reaction in the usually coldly expressionless Von Krauss, though he wasn't doing much better himself.

If there was one thing that any rational wizard valued as much as their magic, it was their soul, because they knew of their existence. Because, unlike muggles, they could see ghosts, they knew of them and what they meant, they knew there was some sort of afterlife. And many even believed in a cycle of some sort, of rebirth, or at least passing to some beyond.

Furthermore, plenty dark purebloods believed that muggle souls were of an inferior nature, that there was no afterlife for them, that their souls vanished into nonexistence with death, since they lacked magic. And many laughed at and derided muggle notions of gods and heavens and such. Granted, mostly due because muggles' beliefs in the existence of souls was a matter of faith in some religion or other instead of fact and proof, and wizards had always viewed such notions with much contempt, since muggles throughout history had used their religious ideas for things that were actually magical in nature, and not the actions of a god or a nemesis of one.

"My Lord," said Konrad Von Krauss haggardly, a plea in his voice, "will it be used against us?"

"Against Germany?" Grindelwald chuckled under his breath. "Certainly not, Konrad. It's the Americans who will use it, and they fear Stalin and the spread of Communism much more than they are bothered by Hitler and his Nazis." He arched an eyebrow at them, as he added pointedly, "And they are wisely self-interested to the point that they will not engage in war if they are not being directly affected by it. Expect no brave altruism on their behalf. They will help no one but themselves."

Julian's mind whirled with possibilities, realizing what the Dark Lord was inkling at.

Grindelwald had been careful of funneling Hitler's ambitions to the practical and useful, namely, the conquest of Europe, the North of Africa and the Middle East for control of routes like the Suez Canal and of the vast natural resources to be found in those lands, all highly important and necessary to fuel and be used in the muggle war effort.

And of course, included as Grindelwald's personal crown jewel, Egypt, to be pried away from both wizarding and muggle British control. It wasn't the ancient magical knowledge of the Egyptians' wizarding civilization that Grindelwald hungered for, but because, as the birthplace of the Vessel, the Dark Lord hoped it could still contain clues.

Indeed, the one zone the Dark Lord had made certain his Nazi puppets would not meddle in was the Asia-Pacific.

Julian recounted in his mind what he knew of it. Most predominantly, there was Indochina under the yoke of French rule, with its Communist inhabitants desperately trying to gain back their own country, and with the imperialist Japanese with their sights set on it. And China, which for the last eight years had been involved in a war between three sides, the government, the Communists led by Mao Tse-Tung with Soviet support, and the Japanese who had already invaded most of it.

"The common factor," muttered Julian under his breath, his face paling as he then gazed up at Grindelwald, his voice rising, "the Japanese. The Americans will feel threatened by their expansion in the Pacific."

"Precisely," intoned Gellert placidly, his eyes ablaze with contentment Julian couldn't understand.

"They are our allies," said Julian pressingly, feeling greatly distressed.

"We have a pact of non-aggression with them," corrected Konrad Von Krauss frostily, "no more."

"If we don't warn their wizarding authorities," interjected Julian in deep agitation, "they will retaliate against us."

Surely he didn't require to explain matters further. Grindelwald himself, a Dark Lord in the apex of his power and influence, had been wary and wise enough to not mess with neither wizarding China nor Japan. And there was a good reason for it, both countries having the most ancient magical cultures in the planet, with wholly differing traditions and magical knowledge than that of Europe.

All the rest of ancient magical civilizations had fallen to some degree or other. The Egyptians after being pillaged by Goblins and wizarding Britain, the few secrets and magical artifacts left were those ensconced in undiscovered nooks and crannies in their pyramids, with much of their knowledge, like the Animagus Transformation, a matter of general knowledge in the Wizarding World.

The ancient Mayan and Aztec cultures whose treasures had been plundered centuries ago when the European muggles 'discovered' the American continent and the wizards went along for the ride to take the opportunity of doing much looting themselves.

And India, which had opened its borders ages ago, allowing foreign wizards to come and go, to freely learn, such as Levitation Charms and whatnot, and, most importantly, allowing interbreeding, resulting in such abilities as Parseltongue to be infused in foreign wizarding bloodlines.

Wizarding Japan and China, which even had strange, native magical creatures to be found nowhere else, didn't allow foreign wizards entrance unless it was for academic purposes, with the caveat that the sharing of knowledge had to go both ways. And even then, Julian was certain, they weren't revealing their most powerful kinds of magic. And after a maximum stay of three months, a portkey was shoved down the throats of foreign wizards if necessary, to taken them back to their country of origin.

Indeed, wizarding Europe was a newborn babe in comparison, and wizarding China and Japan had always been profoundly isolationist and hermetic, hoarding their ancient knowledge like a matriarch dragon looming over her eggs.

"Why would they have reason to suspect I knew anything about the atomic bomb beforehand, mein Edelstein?"

Julian glanced up at Grindelwald, his forehead crinkling with suspicion.

"If this bomb does what you've said," Julian began as he tentatively tested the waters, "the Americans will not dare employ it-"

"They will," interjected Grindelwald with a chortle as if vastly amused by Julian's hopeful naiveté. He made a whooshing motion with a hand, as he crookedly grinned at him. "In an instant and one fell swoop, the Americans will kill more people than my Nazi puppets and wizarding followers combined have in all these years." His hawk-like eyes sparkled with satisfaction. "They will use the bomb in two Japanese cities, brimming with innocent civilians."

Julian shook his head as he said insistently, "The repercussions for the Americans-"

"Will be none," said Grindelwald matter-of-factly. "They will be one of the victors, and the victors are never held accountable for the war crimes they commit, mein Edelstein."

Julian stared at him, as he finally understood why Grindelwald was so pleased instead of deeply troubled and horrified.

Grindelwald was seeing the 'atomic bomb' as an opportunity, like the camps and the experiments the Dark Lord fully intended to make the general public aware of, once he allowed his Nazi puppets to be defeated, to impart a lesson on the Wizard World through the shock-value of it all.

"My Lord," said Julian, purposely infusing his voice with breathless hope, "is this why you are looking for the Vessel? Do you intend to use it as a weapon against this atomic bomb-"

"You've read my father's research," interrupted Konrad Von Krauss scathingly, casting him a snide, hateful look, which made clear that the wizard was still not at all pleased that the Dark Lord had shared such important knowledge with someone so lowly and untrustworthy as him. "The Vessel cannot be used in that manner." He glanced at Grindelwald, before his pale blue eyes hardened. "It can be used as a preemptive strike, so that no muggles are able to ever use any kind of weapons against us."

Julian nodded, his suspicions having been unwittingly confirmed by the two wizards. The wars were a smokescreen as Grindelwald chased after his true purpose, the Vessel, yet the Dark Lord was taking the opportunity to use what the war generated -the camps, the experiments, the atomic bombs- to sway the Wizard World.

Indeed, in the future, when Grindelwald could finally use the Vessel, the Dark Lord would only need to remind wizards of the horrors committed by the muggles, and in terrified fear, wizarding kind would support the use of any 'preemptive strike' available, no matter the utter catastrophic devastation a fully-powered Vessel could unleash, if Ulrich Von Krauss had been right.

Such ruthless brilliance. Plots within plots, all feeding each other, all aiding Grindelwald's aims no matter the turn they took.

Much against his will, Julian gazed at his lover with immense respect and admiration for a cunningness that was certainly unmatched.

Grindelwald's response to it was jaunty wink and a rather salacious, crooked grin that promised the pleasures to come at nightfall.

Yet, as Julian finally left the room once the meeting concluded, there were several things he realized.

Neither Grindelwald nor Von Krauss knew what he did: that Sybilla Spyros had allowed herself to be captured on purpose, that no matter the torture Grindelwald had subjected her to, the memories she had let him rip from her mind were those she had chosen, carefully, for a plot of revenge intended to unfold after her death, for Grindelwald to unwittingly execute.

In his pensive, the Dark Lord had only seen and learned what the Seer had wanted him to act upon.

Furthermore, Julian knew what Grindelwald had not wanted to disclose.

---

As expected, he found Santi waiting for him in his rooms, indolently sprawled on an armchair.

"How did it go?" said Santi placidly as soon as Julian stepped inside.

Julian shot him a dour look. "You know how it went. I'm sure you're well aware of everything that was discussed."

"I am," intoned Santi cheerfully.

Julian eyed him closely, having learned that such brimming joy in his lifelong companion could only mean one thing.

"Have you just returned from spending time with the Harry in the future?" said Julian arching an eyebrow at him.

Santi widely grinned at him. "I have."

Julian rolled his eyes as he leaned against the desk and crossed his arms over his chest. "How old was he this time?"

"Seventeen," replied Santi, a beaming, gorgeous smile spreading on his face.

"At least he was more age-appropriate for you in this occasion."

Santi chuckled under his breath. "There's no such thing for me. My age is boundless, as you well know."

"Quite," quipped Julian, his lips hitching upwards in amusement, "but I'm sure Harry will be mightily glad if you restrain yourself from molesting him when he still hasn't got any hairs on his chest."

"He does not-"

"Spare me," interrupted Julian swiftly as he raised a hand, his lips twisting, "I really don't want to know."

"-because he's a part-Veela."

"He is?" Julian's eyebrows shot upwards in surprise.

Santi widely grinned at him, before he frowned darkly. "I have not bedded him. I have no intention of doing so until he wishes it."

"How very chivalrous of you," bit out Julian tartly.

Santi's frown deepened, yet it was now an expression of concern rather than of having taken offense. "Was is the matter with you?"

Julian sighed deeply as he briskly pulled an armchair to plop down on it. "Grindelwald is doing it for many reasons." He pierced him with his eyes as he added in a low mutter, "But I'm certain he's mostly doing it because of Tom Riddle."

"How so?" prompted Santi, quirking an ethereal eyebrow at him.

"You know what I mean!" snapped Julian irritably. "The concentration camps, the experiments, that blasted bomb! Yes, he wants to instill fear for muggles in the wizarding community, but it's Tom Riddle he's mainly thinking about." He leaned forward to be inches away from Santi's face, as he gripped sourly, "You said Tom Riddle already hates and despises muggles, but he does not fear them. With all these things-"

"Tom Riddle will not care two straws," interjected Santi with a disparaging snort, "about what the Nazis will do to their prisoners in the camps."

"That might be so," retorted Julian harshly, his eyes narrowing, "but he will care about the atomic bomb, won't he?" He frantically threw a hand into the air. "It annihilates souls!"

Santi guffawed loudly, before he choked out between chuckles, "Riddle hasn't yet learned to value souls, Julian. He values nothing but power."

Julian's jaw muscle ticked with exasperation, as he groused acidly, "It fills me with misgivings. You said Grindelwald knows Riddle will become a Dark Lord, and thus prefers to have him as a pupil he can control rather than a rival. You made it sound as if Riddle is a monster by nature, and now Grindelwald is planning on giving Tom Riddle more reasons to fear muggles." His eyes narrowed to slits. "And from what you've said of him, Riddle destroys what he fears." He shot him a scornful look as he added sarcastically, "Can you now fathom a guess as to why I'm concerned?"

Santi's expression turned grave as he said firmly, "You should not worry about Tom Riddle-"

"I'm not worried about him!" snapped Julian impatiently. "He means nothing to me. I worry about Harry, you fool! Harry, who thinks they're brothers. Harry, who will stick by his side, no matter what, according to you-"

"I will protect him," interjected Santi releasing a heavy sigh, "as best I can-"

"And I do not understand," continued Julian, glaring at him, "why you are so blithely flippant regarding what will soon come to happen in the war!" He shook his head, as he added in an appalled mutter, "They've all gone mad."

"I've found that war tends to have that effect on people," remarked Santi with a shrug of his shoulders. "Given all the things I've seen and experienced, it has ceased to amaze me. I'm inured to the self-destructive stupidity of humankind."

Julian shot him a jaundiced look, before he kicked him out of the room. "I need to sleep."

Yet in the following week preceding the attack on the Norwegian Ministry of Magic, he didn't succeed much in that regard.

Julian had thought he had successfully reached the point in which all outside troubles would roll off him, in which he would only enjoy with utter carefree the bit left of his life.

However, his nights were plagued with feelings of apprehension, for the Dark Lord's plans for the Vessel, for what Tom Riddle would become and how it would affect Harry, for the very same reason that the one time he had seen Harry, the boy had looked so young and small and vulnerable and innocent and untarnished, that he felt a sudden urge to protect him at all costs.

All that, added to the many times he had glanced at the shards of the glass dove he had destroyed, which had made him curse his foolishness, because he missed Laurent's letters, felt he needed them as much as the air he breathed. And the fact that Santi had said Laurent could do something stupid in reaction, made Julian cringe worriedly at the possibilities.

If he wasn't haunted by those thoughts, Grindelwald's passion in bed had become such after every subsequent conquest of countries, that even though Julian was left fully satiated, he was also left utterly exhausted, barely able to lift a finger.

Worst of all, he was involved in all aspects of the preparations for the raid of the Norwegian Ministry, with Gellert always by his side, and thus didn't have one single opportunity to do what he wanted the most – to covertly dash to the dungeons and finally free the Jews.

By the time the day of the attack arrived, Julian felt so groggy from lack of rest and sleep that he dearly hoped, for the first time, that the raid would go without a hitch and that Grindelwald's armies would triumph easily.

---

The moment Julian Erlichmann apparated to his chambers in Nurmengard Tower, he gripped his desk with shaking hands, feeling as if he was about to topple over with the sheer anxiety he was feeling.

The final step in the conquest of Norway had been a victory for the Dark Lord, though it certainly didn't feel as such to him.

So many horrifyingly unexpected things had occurred during the attack on the Norwegian Ministry of Magic that Julian was barely able to think straight, his agitation and fear was so profound.

Now, barely five minutes since he had apparated away from the Norwegian Ministry of Magic, Julian understood how right Santi had been. The last thing he had expected was for Laurent to have become a member of the Order of the Phoenix.

Julian was still trembling after the experience, the shocking confrontation, because he knew that it had been Laurent's last desperate attempt to see him and gain him back. Yet it could have so easily ended in Laurent's death that Julian's heart was still thundering loudly in his chest. One wrong move, a second too late, and it would have been an utter disaster.

Indeed, under Grindelwald's watchful eyes he had dueled Laurent, his horror mounting, his frenzy and panic spiraling, since he had to fight as if he meant it and at the same time be careful of not truly injuring his beloved.

It had been an impossible situation: if he didn't kill Laurent, his cover might as well be blown, whilst if he did kill him, he knew he wouldn't be able to live with himself. After all, every decision he had taken since the day that Aurora Bones and Albus Dumbledore had approached him had been with the sole intention of keeping Laurent safe.

So he had resorted to the only being he truly trusted and counted on.

"Save him," he had whispered frantically in between two dark curses cast, "and make him forget."

And Santi, who had known him since he was a toddler, had easily understood what Julian was requesting.

Only Julian had been able to see Santi, as he always did, becoming a blur of golden light as Santi dashed towards Laurent, as Santi's arms tightly wrapped around Laurent's chest from behind, Laurent's hazel eyes widening for a moment of speechless surprise and incomprehension at the invisible force that was suddenly restraining him, and in the next bat of an eyelash, they had vanished.

Just in time, as Julian heard Aurora Bones' voice shrieking urgently, "THE MINISTRY HAS FALLEN – RETREAT TO FRANCE!"

By mere chance, it had all looked as if Laurent had fled of his own accord instead of being whisked away by an invisible Santi, as every member of the Order of the Phoenix and every French Auror and Norwegian witch and wizard left standing apparated away through the ravaged wards of the building.

Only the Dementors remained, along with the surviving Inferi who were being rounded up, as Grindelwald's followers roared the chant of victory that had become as much as a tradition among the Dark Lord's ranks as in those of Grindelwald's Nazi puppets.

"Victory is ours! Sieg ist unser! - Sieg heil! Sieg heil! Sieg heil!"

In the midst of all the cries of triumph and heady, proud celebration, Julian had taken the opportunity to disapparate as inconspicuously as possible.

Nevertheless, in that second, he knew he had to take full advantage of the opportunity. Gellert was occupied in wrapping up matters in what was left of the Norwegian Ministry, while Santi was dealing with Laurent.

Indeed, it was Santi whom Julian didn't want to know about what he had decided to do after having seen Harry, of all people, in the midst of the carnage in the Ministry.

He still couldn't fathom what the boy had been doing there, but he knew what needed to be done.

Now that he was alone in Nurmengard Tower, before the rest returned, was the perfect opportunity, Julian knew as he grabbed the pouch of galleons from his desk and left his chambers in a mad dash.

He ran with all his might and strength until he was in the dungeons. He didn't want Santi to witness his last moments, he could spare his lifelong friend such experience.

Furthermore, Julian felt prepared. He had known all along that the time was coming. He was twenty-four years of age, and long ago Santi had told him he would never live to see his 25th birthday.

Once more, he assured himself that he felt ready as he sprinted into the dungeons. Thankfully, there were no guards to deal with. Grindelwald had known that the French were sending most of their Aurors to Norway, and had also expected the Order of the Phoenix to arrive, and had thus ordered for even the guards of the dungeons to participate in the attack.

When Julian reached the intended cell, he crouched on the floor before the bars and cast a soft Lumos spell on his wand.

"Aaron! Wake up. Aaron!" he whispered sharply.

The light dimly bathing the interior of the cell allowed him to see Aaron Boschkowitz's eyes slowing parting open as the muggle arose from his sleep. His two little children, skeletal girl and boy with bellies swollen from starvation, shifted but neither awoke while the man's grandfather, the ancient-looking, tongueless Leader of the Guardians, Abel, was piercing him with black, heavily crinkled eyes.

"Take this!" said Julian urgently as he grabbed a handful of galleons and shoved his arm in between the bars.

Julian watched as Aaron slowly lifted a hand, shaking so badly and evidently costing the muggle such effort, that Julian blanched. All seven floors of the dungeons were filled with imprisoned Jews and he would have to go one by one, and if they were all as weak as Aaron, it would be impossible to hand out all the galleons to free them all, at that rate.

"Be quick, please!" urged Julian. "Take the portkeys!"

"Portkeys? No," Aaron rasped out, letting his hand fall to his lap.

Julian stared at him, before he said frantically, "I'm Dumbledore's spy, remember? I'm freeing you now. The portkeys will take you to-"

"No," Aaron croaked out, his voice gaining a modicum of strength, as he added slowly, "Not the time."

"What?" Julian insistently shook his handful of galleons. "It is the time, this is your chance, before Grindelwald and his followers return from Norway!"

When Aaron did nothing but tiredly peer at him, Julian bit out flatly, "Listen, the Dark Lord will soon start sending you to concentration camps, you understand? And you have no idea of the things they're planning on doing to you there-"

"Extermination camps," rasped out Aaron Boschkowitz. "They will be called extermination camps."

Julian stared at him in utter bafflement. "Extermination? What extermination?" He shook his head before he gripped the bars of the cell, as he snapped in frustration, "Listen! You must take the portkeys and leave-"

"No," interrupted Aaron, his eyes hardening with determination. "You must only free us on the day the first of us are taken to the camps. She was very clear on the matter."

"She?" said Julian perplexed. "What she?"

The expression on Aaron's shrunken face went blank, clearly indicating that the muggle regretted having said that much. But it was then when old Abel Boschkowitz began to make slow moving motions with his age-spotted and frail-looking hands.

Aaron watched his grandfather's hand signs and released a resigned sigh, before nodding and turning to face Julian. "The one who told us about you. That there would be a young wizard who would sing to us with the voices of sirens and thrills of phoenixes." The muggle's gaze darted to Julian's empty hands and raised an eyebrow at the absence of the magical flute. "That you would give us freedom. That you would be the Helper."

'The Helper' echoed and reverberated in Julian's mind, his sky blue eyes widening as he remembered hearing those same words so long ago when he had been fifteen. Abruptly, all air left his lungs.

"Sybilla Spyros talked to you?" breathed out Julian in utter confusion. "How? When? The Dark Lord killed her before you were even captured and brought here-"

"She found us many years ago," replied Aaron tiredly, as he wrapped an arm around his children who were sleeping against his side. "She told us that a Dark Lord would rise and create a war for the sole purpose of finding us, the Guardians. To attempt to pry from us the location of our greatest treasure."

"The Vessel," murmured Julian quietly, intently catching the muggle's gaze.

Aaron slowly nodded. "She told us what she had seen in her visions, the persecution that my people were going to be subjected to, the great suffering that would come, the camps…" He trailed off, before glancing to the sides, as he added in a mutter, "Some of us wanted to warn our communities."

It was then when Julian realized that many others in subjacent cells had woken up and were now intently listening to the conversation, their eyes sharp and bright as they focused on Aaron and Julian.

"Warn them so that all Jews, whether they knew of us Guardians or not, could flee Europe before it all began," continued Aaron, now staring at Julian, his voice lowering.

Julian deeply frowned at him. "I do not understand. Sybilla Spyros told you what was going to be done to you in the future and you decided to stay put? To do nothing? To not even spare your own kind the horrors-"

"We decided," interjected Aaron in a firm tone of voice, "that the price was worth paying. She said that by the end of the war, we would gain what we've been longing for since the beginning of times-"

"The Promised Land," came a fervent whisper.

Julian glanced at a side, seeing one of the prisoners by the next cell with a zealous, feverish expression on his face, while many of the others who had been listening to the conversation now seemed to be enlivened with intense hope and longing.

"The land that was promised by God to the prophet Abraham, which was promised again to Abraham's son, Isaac, and to Isaac's son, Jacob," said Aaron, making Julian gaze back at him with a befuddled expression on his face.

"What land?" muttered Julian, his eyebrows rising.

"Our own country, at long last," replied Aaron fervently, his black eyes keen and glowing avidly. "She said we would name it Israel." The muggle pierced Julian with his eyes, his expression hardening. "We will suffer, but as I said, the price is worth paying. It was decided."

"Look," said Julian sharply, his agitation increasing with each word spoken, "I don't know what sorts of things Sybilla Spyros promised you, but she was not to be trusted. She had plans of her own that you know nothing about, she was using you-"

"She did not lie," interjected Aaron curtly. "She could not. She was a true Soothsayer, descendant of Cassandra, bearing her Curse. She could only speak the Truth."

Julian shook his head in frustration before he bit out, "Be that as it may, she could still lie by omission, couldn't she? If she's the one who convinced you that you had to wait until the first of you are taken to the camps-"

"Did she lie when she told us about you?" interrupted Aaron vehemently, boring his gaze into Julian's. "She did not. You are exactly as she said. Who has brought us hope with music, who is the spy of the Companion of the Phoenix, who will free us - but not until the appropriate day. She was most adamant about that, Helper."

"Helper," whispered Julian under his breath, all color once again vanishing from his face, as it finally and fully came to him with punishing force: all those words spoken by Sybilla Spyros and Santi, that day nine years ago when he had met her for the one and only time.

And the more he finally unraveled and understood, and the more the horrible suspicion grew in his mind, the more frantic he became.

He shot Aaron a wild look as he demanded forcefully, "Did she speak of the Finder?"

"Yes," replied Aaron, intently eyeing him back with a look of both surprise and curiosity on his gaunt face. "Only to him we will reveal our secret. We will tell him all, we will teach him much. He will be worthy, she said. He will protect it and become one with it-"

"Did she give you a name?" snapped Julian, highly distressed and perturbed.

"No names." Aaron shook his head. "We will know him by a mark. We are still waiting for his arrival-"

"What mark?" urged Julian instantly, with his heart lodged in his throat.

"The mark of lightning." Aaron frowned as he stared at him. "Why do you ask? Do you know who-"

Julian was up to his feet in a second, so agitated and horrified that he could barely think straight.

"You will come to us, yes?" called out Aaron as Julian violently thrust the pouch of galleons in a pocket of his robes as he ran towards the exit. "You will free us on the day that-"

"Yes!" yelled Julian over his shoulder before he ran out of the dungeons, his heart pounding frenziedly in his chest.

Midway as he dashed up the eternal, spiraling stone stairway of Nurmengard Tower, Julian nearly toppled down the stairs when Santi popped into existence right before him.

Panting hard as he grabbed the rails, Julian wheezed out furiously, "You should have told me that Sybilla was referring to Harry!"

Santi's eyebrows quirked upwards, but before he could speak, Julian was swept with apprehension, about a much more urgent matter in that moment.

"Laurent?" Julian murmured faintly, his sky blue eyes filled with anxiety as he stared at him.

"I apparated him to his flat in Florence," said Santi quietly, eyeing him closely, gauging. "And I obliviated every memory he had of you. I hope that is what you intended me to do-"

"It is," muttered Julian through a throat suddenly dry and constricted.

"I can always reverse it," offered Santi, his tone gentle and his expression one of concern.

Julian jerkily shook his head. "No. It's what had to happen. He's truly and completely safe now." He cast Santi a glance as he added in a pained whisper, "That's all I've ever wanted since the beginning."

Santi gazed at him with pity and compassion before he heaved a deep, long sigh. "I know."

"You said Laurent would have a long life, marry, have children, and be content," said Julian softly, boring his gaze into Santi's. "Does that still hold true?"

"Now more than ever," Santi assured quietly.

Julian nodded, his face pale and his hands trembling, even though he knew that it was all for the best.

"Aurora Bones," intoned Santi carefully, "will notice that her nephew has been obliviated-"

"She'll believe I did it," interrupted Julian, waving a hand dismissively before his fingers curled into tight fists. He was suffused with rage as he spat, "What was Dumbledore thinking by letting Laurent become part of the Order?"

Santi scoffed at that. "Dumbledore wanted to bring you back into the fold. Ever since you broke communications with him-" he shot Julian a pointed look "- he's been concerned that perhaps you've allowed your feelings for Grindelwald to sway you. He thought that if you saw Laurent-"

"Dumbledore shouldn't have used Laurent, regardless," snapped Julian, bristling with fury. "He should have known better."

He then shook his head as he unclenched his fists, before he narrowed his sky blue eyes at Santi. "Sybilla Spyros couldn't have been right. Harry cannot possibly be the 'Finder' she spoke of." His eyes narrowed to slits, as he skewered Santi with his gaze. "I remember clearly now. She said 'the Finder and the Key'. And I know what the Key means." He gestured furiously with his hands. "The Key, that ignites, that fuels, that feeds! Gellert cannot be planning on using Harry for that-"

Santi snorted disparagingly. "Do not delude yourself, Grindelwald is more than capable of using a young boy to-"

"Of course he is – he has no scruples!" snapped Julian impatiently. "That's not what I meant." He pierced Santi with his eyes, as he bit out, "Harry cannot be the sacrifice! Ulrich Von Krauss was very clear on the subject. According to his research and discoveries, to have a fully powered Vessel, the three sacrifices have to come from one single wizard – a wizard with levels of magical power as that of a Lord! Harry doesn't! He's just a-"

"Ah," murmured Santi, "so that's what it is." He shot him a determined glance. "Come with me-"

"I'm going nowhere," bit out Julian angrily as he took one step down and away. "I demand that you tell me-"

"Then I'll show you, and you'll understand."

Santi moved so quickly that Julian barely understood what happened. One moment he was standing in the middle of the stairs, in the next he was grabbed and then suddenly found himself in the Dark Lord's study, being pulled along by the sleeve by Santi.

"I cannot be here," hissed out Julian, greatly unnerved. "If Gellert finds me in here when he-"

"We still have a few minutes before he returns from Norway," interjected Santi curtly, as he finally halted and released him.

Julian immediately stiffened. They had stopped before the immense sphere that occupied a whole corner of Grindelwald's study, floating between floor and ceiling, its surface watery-like, displaying the countless small flames that represented every witch and wizard, and every other magical being in the world, distributed in their own towns and cities, and countries, or seas and oceans when it came to certain types of magical creatures.

Immediately, Julian turned his face away so that he wouldn't be subjected to the sight of The Globe.

"Look at it," said Santi sternly.

"I won't," snarled Julian angrily. "You know what it means for me-"

"Forget that for a moment," pressed Santi impatiently. "This is important. Look at it."

Releasing a wary exhalation of breath, Julian tiredly rubbed his face before he turned to gaze at The Globe with much resignation, as he muttered in a surly monotone, "What should I be looking at?"

He watched as Santi maneuvered The Globe with sweeps of his hands, as he had seen Grindelwald often do, making it rotate and then enlarge a section of the world globe.

Then, he realized that Santi had made the artifact zoom in on Norway. As it became larger and larger, Julian knew he was seeing the many flames that represented Grindelwald's followers, evidently still wrapping up matters in the Norwegian Ministry of Magic.

But there was one flame among all the rest that was most visible, many times much larger than all the rest, glowing beautifully and with great intensity, of the color of tarnished silver.

"Gellert," whispered Julian, mesmerized and awe-struck.

"Indeed," said Santi dryly, before he began maneuvering The Globe again.

When he was done, Julian found himself looking at what was unmistakably Hogwarts, filled with tiny flames. Santi made the artifact display an enlarged section, and he pointed a finger at a precise flame.

Julian's eyes grew wide. If he had ever held any doubts that only Albus Dumbledore could be a match for the Dark Lord when it came to magical power, they were dispelled in that very second. For that flame had to be that of Dumbledore, as large and potent as Gellert's.

There were two other flames in close quarters with it.

"And those?" asked Julian, as he gestured at them.

"Faustus Prewett and Aurora Bones," replied Santi shortly. "They're reporting back to Dumbledore, after having left the French and Norwegian Aurors and other survivors of the battle in France."

"Alright," Julian said slowly, frowning. "So what is so important about this?"

"I wanted you to have several points of reference - measures of comparison, if you will," interjected Santi calmly, "before I show you."

Julian's frown deepened as Santi made The Globe shrink that section until Hogwarts was nothing more than a cluster of undistinguishable small flames. Until, Julian realized, he was seeing below it another concentration of small flames – Hogsmeade, it had to be.

But then… Julian forced his eyes to see better. Apparently, there were two flames midway between Hogwarts and Hogsmeade, moving in a straight line.

Julian shot Santi a confused glance. "What-"

As Santi made The Globe zero in on the two flames, expanding that area, he said coolly, "They're in a secret passageway that leads into the school. Those flames, Julian, are Tom Riddle and Harry. What do you notice?"

Julian stared at them, one flame of a midnight blue, the other the color of fire, and his pulse began to race, his mind swirling chaotically, as he felt utterly bewildered and shocked and thoroughly astonished. He was speechless.

"Their flames are abnormally large, aren't they?" said Santi placidly. "Indeed, too large given their age. Too bright, too potent." He cast Julian a pointed glance. "Tell me, what do you think Dumbledore's and Grindelwald's flames would have looked like when they were thirteen years old?"

The implication was obvious, and Julian shot him a stupefied look. He could understand why Tom Riddle could be so powerful at such a young age, given that the boy was Salazar Slytherin's Heir and would become a Dark Lord. But Harry-

"Because of the Sands of Time," he whispered as the realization struck him. He pierced Santi with an intense, searching gaze. "That's why, isn't it? You said Grindelwald doused him with the Sands of Time in the future, in the day of origin, when Harry is a baby and he is made to time-travel back into this past. You said the Sands affect the soul, giving way to alterations in the magical core, like happened to you. Because it was the Sands that made you what you are, what gave you these boundless powers you have-"

"Exactly," interrupted Santi calmly. "As you can see, the process in Harry has already begun."

All the air in his lungs was released in a pained swoosh, as Julian became frantic. "We cannot let it happen! We cannot let Grindelwald use Harry as the sacrifice for the Vessel." He gave Santi a pleading, frenzied look. "The ritual for it is barbaric, atrocious, monstrous. He'll be ripped to pieces!" He brought up a hand as he ticked off his fingers frenziedly. "The sacrifice is threefold, according to Ulrich Von Krauss – magic, life, and body-"

"But not soul," interjected Santi, his face ablaze with satisfaction. "The most important, Harry's soul, will be preserved-"

"IN A LOCKET!" yelled Julian furiously. "I remember what you said about the locket issue, I haven't forgotten. Little consolation that is! A soul is pure awareness, a soul is-"

He slammed his mouth shut before he skewered Santi with his gaze, as he demanded forcefully, "When! When is Harry born?"

"1980," replied Santi coolly, "and in 1982 once more, when his soul is released from the locket and into the body of a baby in a witch's womb."

Julian felt as if the world had tilted off its axis, his eyes growing large. The dates seemed so fantastical to him, so far away in the future, so impossible and startling.

"Fifty years," he then muttured, as he shot Santi a wild look. "For the Vessel to be at its full power, the sacrifices of magic, life, and body have to be left inside the artifact for at least fifty years, growing and compounding with each other."

"Harry, or better said, the person he'll be in his life in the future," said Santi quietly, "will be twelve when Grindelwald makes use of the powered Vessel."

Julian frantically shook his head, as he snapped furiously, "It still means that Harry's soul will be stuck inside a locket for decades! Decades in which his soul will feel each and every single second like an eternity! He'll be born a madman!"

"That issue has already been solved," retorted Santi curtly, his eyes narrowing. "Do not think that I do not have Harry's best interest at heart."

"Then tell me why," hissed out Julian angrily, his hands curling into fists, "you're willing to allow for Harry to be used as the sacrifice."

"Because that will be Grindelwald's mistake," said Santi with exasperation, before he let out a sharp laugh. "Ulrich Von Krauss didn't discover all of the Vessel's secrets, Julian! There's not a person alive who could – not even I understand it in full."

"I don't care what you say," snapped Julian ill-temperedly, "what will be done to him is monstrous. And don't think I haven't noticed." He pointed a finger at the two flames in The Globe. "That tendril that is flowing between the two, that connects them – I realize what it means." His eyes narrowed to slits. "You failed to mention that the horcrux Lord Voldemort made by mistake in the original timeline, and which Lord Slytherin will make on purpose, is actually Harry – a human horcrux! It's heinous-"

"I like it as little as you do," bit out Santi crisply, a dark expression on his handsome face.

Julian's nostrils flared, before a recollection suddenly struck him, and he breathed out hopefully, "That day when I said that I could hand Dumbledore over to Grindelwald to be used as the sacrifice for the Vessel, you said there were others with Lord-level powers. Who are they?"

He immediately glanced back at The Globe, his sky blue eyes shinning with eagerness as he began to maneuver the artifact as he had seen Santi do.

"Don't waste your efforts," said Santi calmly. "The two I spoke about will not be shown there."

"What?" Julian snapped his head around to stare at him. "What do you mean? The Globe shows every magical being alive."

"Not these two," remarked Santi shortly.

"Why not?" Julian frowned at him before he desperately shook his head. "Don't you see? Santiago, if I can provide Gellert with an alternative, then I can convince him to not use Harry as the sacrifice. I know I could!"

"I don't doubt your skills of persuasion," retorted Santi with a deep sigh, "but believe me, those two are best left alone. Indeed, I'm mightily glad that Grindelwald is not aware of them. No one is, thankfully."

Julian deeply frowned at him but didn't get the chance to prod into the matter any further when Santi abruptly grabbed him by the arm. After a moment of dizzying disorientation, Julian found himself in his chambers.

"Grindelwald is about to arrive," said Santi as he released him. He paused, before he added, "And since you've been the one handling Grindelwald's spy at Hogwarts, you should know that Tilly Toke is dead."

"What?" choked out Julian, horrified and dumbfounded. "How? What happened?"

"It was an accident," said Santi shortly, "but you'll be able to find his remains in the outskirts of what's left of a muggle town in Norway. Namsos."

"Norway?" said Julian utterly astonished, before his eyes grew with sudden understanding. "Toke was with Harry and Tom Riddle, wasn't he? That's why I found the boys in the Norwegian Ministry of Magic." He stared at Santi in bewildered incomprehension. "What in Mordred's name were they doing there?"

"I'll tell you later," said Santi hurriedly, before he shot him a wide smile, "but perhaps you will like to know that Harry has Tilly Toke's pendant – the match of the one you have in your desk."

Julian eyebrows shot upwards. "You've always said I would only meet Harry twice."

"That's right," said Santi quietly. "You will never see him again, but you can speak to him, if you wish. I leave the decision up to you."

Julian swallowed thickly at that, feeling great temptation of doing just so. But it would be foolish, he knew, to speak to the boy through the devices. He would be dying soon, thus it would do neither of them any good to form an even deeper attachment.

And he grieved for Toke's death as well. It had been Konrad Von Krauss who had recruited the wizard as a spy, at some point during the years Von Krauss had been in England carrying on several missions for the Dark Lord.

It wasn't until Grindelwald had sent Konrad to masquerade as a new rising star in Hitler's ranks that the task of handling the spy had been given to Julian. Through the set of pendants, they frequently spoke with each other, as Toke gave his reports regarding the boys.

Julian had come to increasingly like the wizard, as Toke showed that he was truly fond of Harry, as he constantly praised the boy's natural talents in Charms and intuitive, inventive mind.

Furthermore, it had been a year ago when Julian had discovered that Tilly Toke wasn't a willing spy.

They had had the man's sister in the dungeons of Nurmengard, and when she had died like many others, due to torture, starvation, and the awful conditions in the cells, Julian had been forced to lie to Tilly Toke when the man constantly asked about his sister's wellbeing.

When Konrad Von Krauss had kidnapped the girl from the Tokes' home in England, it seemed he had promised Tilly Toke that she would be treated well. Indeed, Toke had believed that she was being kept under lock in some bedchamber of Nurmengard Tower instead than in the dungeons.

Tilly Toke had been an admirable wizard, and Julian knew that if the man had gone to Norway it had been to protect the boys from Grindelwald, due to the chance that they could have been detected.

Indeed, Julian was now vastly glad that they had all been extremely busy during the week preceding the attack on the Norwegian Ministry of Magic. Clearly, the Dark Lord had not been keeping an eye on The Globe. If Grindelwald had seen those two flames anywhere near Norway, the wizard would have snatched the boys immediately.

Julian sighed heavily, before he turned to Santi and urged swiftly, "Injure me. Make it serious."

Santi understood the reason immediately, though his expression was grim as he waved a hand.

Julian hissed in pain under his breath as he felt a slash cutting him open, in the middle of his stomach.

Santi vanished in the next instant, as blood poured from Julian's wound, sopping his robes, as the sounds of hurried and angered footfalls could be heard coming from the corridor outside.

Despite the gravity of the injury, Julian clenched his jaw, and was swift to employ his wand.

With a flick, he flung open the window of his room, with another, he cast one of the many spells Albus Dumbledore had taught him so long ago, that day when Julian had been spending the last of his hours with Laurent in the Didiers' cottage in Nice.

A beautiful robin made of slivery white light erupted from the tip of his wand, and as his patronus batted its wings, Julian was quick to speak in English, "The Inferius that was Nettie Prewett is dead."

At least, he could give Faustus Prewett some closure. Before disapparating from the Norwegian Ministry of Magic, while Grindelwald's followers began to round up the Dementors and remaining Inferi, Julian had noticed her absence. Even as an Inferius, Nettie Prewett had been very distinguishable, still having some clumps of red hair left on her rotting scalp. She must have been killed by some Auror.

And he knew that Faustus Prewett had gone to the Norwegian Ministry of Magic with the rest of the Order in the hopes of finally finding his sister. The wizard had known that she had been turned into an Inferius, and it had made Julian wonder just what the man thought he could possibly do for her.

Nevertheless, he hesitated for a moment at the next part. He had never said a word to Dumbledore about Harry. None at all. Not Grindelwald's interest in the boy, even less the Dark Lord's plans regarding Tom Riddle and Harry, not even that Julian himself knew of the existence of any boys at all.

Julian clenched his jaw harder. But no, in this, he would not obey Santi. Given all the things he had discovered that day, he was determined to at least do the one thing that would give Harry a fighting chance.

Thus, he stared at his patronus, as he added in a low voice, "Protect Harry Riddle."

And with another flick of his wand, his patronus was gone, flying like the wind, bound for Scotland. In Julian's estimation, Dumbledore would be receiving it by the time the boys reached Hogwarts.

He knew very well just how his words would impact Dumbledore, setting off all sorts of alarm bells in the wizard's mind.

If Dumbledore hadn't suspected Grindelwald's interest in the boys by now, he would then. If Dumbledore had not seen the presence of the boys in the Norwegian Ministry of Magic through the eyes of his phoenix, he would suspect it. Probably, the wizard might even rush out of his office in search of them.

As the door of his room was furiously blasted open, Julian wondered if he had done the right thing: whether Dumbledore would become an aid or an obstacle for Harry, an ally and protector or one more powerful wizard with the intentions of using Harry for the 'Greater Good'.

Nevertheless, manipulator or not, Dumbledore was a wizard with true good intentions at heart, and Julian ultimately pinned his hopes on that.

"Where have you been?" snarled Gellert Grindelwald as he stormed into Julian's chamber, his expression thunderous and filled with suspicion.

The Dark Lord halted in his tracks, his hawk-like eyes zeroing in on Julian's blood-drenched robes and the large slash cutting them open.

"The Frenchman injured you?" Gellert's expression softened, deep worry briefly crossing his handsome face as he hastily approached Julian.

And Julian allowed himself to be tended to by the Dark Lord. As Grindelwald took the time to heal him with great care and gentle tenderness, Julian closed his eyes and hoped it would all truly end soon for him.

Little did he know that during that night's gathering for the celebration of the conquest of yet another country, he would finally meet her.

Julian would never exactly know what it was about her – her derailed madness, her dangerous passion, her twisted, jaded, and absolute selfishness, or her destructive personality- but somehow, as much as she became his tormentor, she became his haven as well, and for that last, he loved her.