Disclaimer: This is a work of fanfiction based on the Harry Potter universe. All recognizable characters, plots, and settings are the exclusive property of J.K Rowling. I make no claim to ownership.
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Here's the summary:
Marauders' Era Time Travel AU: A better prepared Harry never faces Voldemort in the Forbidden Forest. Six years of fighting follow that costly choice. His inevitable defeat does not leave him dead and buried, but stranded in a strange world ruled by Dumbledore, Grindelwald, and their greater good.
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Harry Potter and the Conjoining of Paragons
By ACI100
Chapter 61: Le Prix de L'amour
April 26, 1944
Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry
8:13 PM
The pair sprinted down the marble staircase as the bells continued tolling. The bottom floor was filled with shadows, dancing between the mess of bodies pouring through the front doors and out onto the grounds.
"Why aren't we holding the castle?" Harry asked over the din of noise. "It seems like a more defensible position."
"On paper," Charlus shouted back, "but what happens once the front line is breached and they get inside?"
"Touché, I guess." His grip tightened around the holly wand.
"Remember that Grindelwald is probably dead tired and recovering," said Charlus. "Don't waste your strength until he joins the fight."
Charlus kept running when his feet hit the bottom floor, but Harry hung back. "Go!" he said. "I have something to do in here first."
Charlus gave him a final wave, then tore off outside.
Harry slipped under the cloak for the first time since spinning that time turner. It was bliss. There was a certain feeling that came from the silk sliding smoothly along his skin and hiding him from anyone and everyone.
The crowds thinned when he stepped off the stone stairs and into the dungeons. There were fewer people the further down he strode and soon the corridors were soundless but for his own footsteps.
He only half-knew where he was going, relying on a memory he had glimpsed at twelve years old while pouring over Tom Riddle's diary.
Harry stepped into a dark offshoot that sloped steadily downwards until he spotted the old, abandoned storage cabinet he remembered from the memory.
Not long ago…
"All right, Harry?" He was surprised that Hagrid knew his name; the pair of them had hardly ever spoken here.
That pained him worse than almost anything. My first real friend and the one who introduced me to magic. Now I'll never see him again. "About as well as you'd expect. How are you holding up?"
A deep frown crossed the large boy's face. "Bit nervous ter tell the truth. I'm not made for fightin' like all this." He gestured a massive hand towards the crowd bustling past them and through the Great Hall's double doors. "I just want it ter all be over."
Harry offered a smile he hoped looked kind, but he worried how strained it might have appeared. "There is something you can do to help."
Hagrid's shoulders sagged. "Nah," he said, "I'm no good at magic, see? All right at Charms and 'erbology, but those won't be no use against Grindelwald."
"It's not magic I'm talking about. At least not the way you're thinking of it. Whatever happened to that giant spider?"
Hagrid's face paled and he nearly stumbled backwards. "What?" he asked. "I don't know no giant—"
"I know it was you, Hagrid." Harry reached up and rested a hand on the large boy's arm. "Don't worry, I'm not gonna tell a professor. I've known since the beginning and would have done it ages ago if I'd wanted to."
"I'm worried about 'im," Hagrid admitted. "Worried what'll happen if Grindelwald gets inter the castle and finds 'im."
"I can help with that, if you'd like."
Hagrid perked up. "How?"
Back in the present…
The guilt tore deeper into him with each step he took. It has to be done.
He slipped the silvery key from his pocket and slid it into the lock.
Here goes nothing.
The lock clicked and he lurched back as a dark, hulking shape burst from the cabinet. Aragog was not quite the elephant-sized monstrosity he might one day be, but he was at least the size of a horse and the clicking of his pincers was like the clopping of a dozen booted hooves.
"Aragog!"
The spider tensed and turned its massive head. "Who speaks?"
"A friend of Hagrid's."
Aragog's pincers clicked again. "I can smell you, friend of Hagrid." The pincers' clicking grew more agitated. "What do you want?"
"The school is being attacked by dark wizards—"
"I don't care about the school or the dark wizards."
"But you care about Hagrid?"
There was an extended pause. "I care about Hagrid," the spider agreed.
"These dark wizards want to kill all the students." Judging by the pincers' renewed rhythm, Aragog had seized his bait.
"They want to kill Hagrid?" There was something dangerous in that rasping voice.
"Yes," he said, "they want to kill Hagrid."
"Where are they?"
"They're out on the grounds and — hey, wait!" Aragog made an angry noise, but he did stop. "Hagrid is hiding with the other younger years, but if they get into the castle, they'll kill them all."
There was another beat of silence. "So they must not enter the castle?"
Harry nodded before realizing he was invisible. That'll take some getting used to again. Fear stole his breath when he remembered just how little time he would have to get used to anything.
"Yes," he choked out. "Protect the castle."
The smell of smoke was in the air when he burst out onto the grounds. Plumes of it rose in the distance, stark against the purple sky and its fading orange flecks. It was almost quiet from so far away, but the strong, mid-spring breeze bore aloft high screams that could almost pass for figments of his imagination.
The grass squished beneath his feet, still damp from days of rain but no longer sopping. The wind snatched at the cloak and streamed it out behind him, but the combatants were too focused on their own conflicts to spot him moving past them.
His lungs burned by the time the sounds of battle sharpened and grew clear. Spellfire split the warm night air like a thousand gunshots, interspersed with screams or louder sounds that shook the ground beneath him.
The wind grew stronger and he wondered why until he took in his surroundings. The fighting had spilled across the grounds and now raged along the Black Lake's banks.
Where are Charlus and Emily?
Nearby, Dippet brandished his wand and sent three men tumbling into the water with a trio of sharp splashes.
Harry swerved hard as a grey-robed shape loomed ahead, the Hallows' symbol stark upon its back. Harry slammed his knuckles into the back of that hodded head and sent its owner sprawling.
Where are Charlus and Emily?
Harry's eyes roamed the field of battle. It was chaos. The treeline was on fire and a group of witches were trying to put it out while being pelted by a storm of curses. Grey, black, and red robes blurred together in the deadliest light show he had ever seen as bodies fell like autumn leaves.
I can't even tell who's winning. His best guess was a grim one and based only on the fact that Grindelwald's forces had pushed them back this far.
And I don't see him anywhere. Something told him he would know when the dark lord took the field. If they've pushed us back without him, that's not good.
A silver spell caught his eye and he turned towards the flash. In its light, he could see Emily locked in battle with a grey-haired man whose cloak's tassels gleamed in the light of her bright spell.
The concussive blast had not phased her assailant and he was forcing Emily onto the back foot. A splotch of red on her right shoulder stilled his heart as he watched them exchange spells.
Harry rushed through the crowd and ripped off the cloak, firing a Stunner from behind the red and gold-robed man.
The spell sailed back at him and Harry ducked, but there was a deep cry of pain and the man stumbled back, clutching at his wand arm.
Harry sprang back up and twisted his own wand. The grass writhed into thick chains that dragged the large man down.
"Harry!"
He dropped flat against the grass and felt a spell whizz overhead. Fuck, that was close.
A hailstorm of spells splashed against his hasty shield until its surface rippled.
Grinding his teeth, he twirled his wand and the ground between him and his new assailants ruptured. A flourish transfigured the spraying debris into a pack of stone-hewn birds swooping down at the three men who had attacked him.
"Aeria Impulsum." His muttered spell caused a blinding flash and all three toppled like fallen dominos.
A yellow spell hissed at him from the darkness, but it fizzled out and emerald light flashed in answer.
A body thudded against the grass not far away.
Hands spun him and his wand came up, but familiar blue eyes stilled him. "Are you hurt?" Emily asked, running her fingers down his cheek and along the skin of his neck.
"I'm fine, but you—"
"It's nothing, just a well-aimed Cutting Curse. That was one of Grindelwald's lieutenants; he was good."
"He's dead, then?" She nodded. "Good. Let's stick together, that way we're ready when—"
Shrill screams rose above the drone of battle. What the—oh, fuck.
Emerald flames swirled through a crowded mass of bodies and left naught but curling ash behind.
No! It was too soon for this; the time was not right. "FIENDFYRE!"
Wine-red hellfire leapt forth in challenge and slammed against the wall of burning emerald death.
Harry grunted as the force of Grindelwald's spell drove him back three metres. How is he so strong? Emily had raw power beyond anything he had ever seen, but not even her spells ripped into him like this.
The wand, he realized, he's got the Elder Wand.
Grindelwald's Fiendfyre cackled as Harry's emitted inhuman sounds reminiscent of dismayed cries of pain.
No!
A new surge of fire rushed past him in a howling wave hot enough to leave his body prickling under the assault of unseen needles forged from burning pinpricks. It rose up high and enclosed his own, providing reinforcement. Red so dark it was almost black made up these flames and Harry could hear the gasp beside him as Emily pushed with all her will.
Spells flashed past them, but the surrounding smoke was so thick, there was no telling from where they came.
An unearthly noise sang across the field of battle — like shattering glass and guttering flames, but louder and more piercing — and suddenly the flames were gone.
A gasp wrenched free of him as Harry's knees slammed into the grass. Smoke filled his lungs and bent him over with wracking coughs sharp enough to coat his mouth in blood.
Great pillars of smoke obscured all but a single shadow when next he raised his head.
The smoke vanished with one great hiss and the field was clear. "We meet again, Mister Pavonis," said Gellert Grindelwald. Harry grasped at the flush discolouring the dark lord's cheeks with mental fingers. He's not invincible. "And Miss Riddle, I see. Charmed, my dear."
Blood rushed in Harry's ears. You can't have her! Pushing himself upright, he levelled his wand at Grindelwald.
The night was calm around them, quiet but for the far off sounds of fighting.
"Shall we end our dance, Hadrian?" There was something dark and angry in those cold blue eyes. "There is no Dumbledore to die for you this time."
Harry whipped his arm towards Grindelwald and lit the night with lightning that flashed against a silver shield whose surface cracked and rippled.
Emily stepped up beside him. "AVADA KEDAVRA!"
Grindelwald vanished and the green light sailed through the spot he had occupied a heartbeat earlier.
Fuck, the wards are down. Harry spun away from a maelstrom of curses but felt the air forced out of him mid-step.
The grass smacked hard against his side. His shoulder flared with pain and his breaths grew sharp and ragged. Not this again; how the fuck do you block that invisible force bullshit?
Someone stepped mere feet from his head. "You'll have to kill me if you want him."
Fuck! Emily, no!
He tried standing, but his lungs were flat and his nerves burned. I need time!
Grindelwald hummed. "So be it. Avada Kedavra."
Harry saw, from between his girlfriend's legs, a stone hand reach up from the earth and snatch the jet of emerald light before bursting in a shower of emerald flame.
A broad, dark-haired boy stepped up beside Emily and levelled his wand at Grindelwald. "You'll have to kill both of us." Charlus raised his voice and called out to the shell-shocked crowd that had gathered close around them. "You'll have to kill all of us!"
All at once, the battle blazed to life again. There were so many screams, and bangs, and flashes of multi-coloured light, it was impossible to tell what was going on.
The cloak. If I can just get up and get it on…
Harry's body at last responded and he got his feet back under him. Halfway up, Charlus staggered back and toppled over him. Their limbs were tangled as they both fell and fought for footing.
"Protego Diabolica!"
A ribbon of bright blue flames snaked around Grindelwald and rose above the still blazing treeline. Spells bombarded the encircling flames, but each one was swallowed by black tendrils that lashed back and reduced their targets to hot ashes.
"What the fuck is that?" Charlus asked, gesturing towards the wall of flames.
"I don't know." Emily sounded frightened for the first time since they had reunited. "I don't—"
Something sailed just inches past her head — not a spell, but something small and round.
A stone? Where had it come from?
A golden nimbus blazed, bright and sudden as a hundred lightning bolts. Harry screamed, stumbling back and shading his eyes, but his cry of pain sounded like it came from far away.
"Blimey," Charlus muttered a heartbeat sooner than Harry had blinked the gilded spots out of his own eyes.
The flames had been extinguished and Grindelwald stood motionless, facing a tall man dressed in yellow robes.
"An impressive trick," Grindelwald admitted.
The tall man shrugged. "A tiresome process, but not a very thought-provoking one."
"Reginald Edward Gress." Grindelwald weighed the name on his tongue. "A nobody capable of countering arcane magic and guarding his thoughts against my best attempts."
I should attack him now. Harry almost did it, but something stilled his hand.
Gress gave an overstated bow. "I've had many years of practice and better legilimentes than you have tried their hands."
"I have seen that spell countered once before," the dark lord mused. "There were fifty aurors then, but you have matched their efforts single-handedly."
"You would be surprised by what a single man can accomplish when he is willing to make some sacrifices."
That fucking word again…
The dark lord took a small step back and held up the Elder Wand. "Immortality, might I guess?"
"You might." Gress's shoulders narrowed and his yellow robes darkened into a rich red trimmed in snow-white lace embroidered in fine patterns. His black hair softened into a sleet grey colour and lengthened until it stretched down to the bottom of his ears.
Emily gasped.
"Bloody fuck," Charlus muttered.
Grindelwald clapped his hands in a tepid, rhythmic cadence. "Bien joué, Monsieur Flamel."
Flamel? Flamel!
Pieces clicked inside his mind.
France had fallen sometime in the early nineteen forties; not long before 'Reginald Gress' had taken his position at Hogwarts.
The motivation was there; revenge for his homeland.
Yet the alchemist had been distant until the death of Dumbledore, since which he had been omnipresent.
Dumbledore and Flamel were friends…
"Si facilement impressionné après toutes ces années?" asked the ancient alchemist. "Tu me déçois, Grindelwald."
"You are much like Albus," Grindelwald murmured. "I understand now why the pair of you were close."
Flamel tossed back his head. "You understand little." All traces of an American accent were gone.
The dark lord's eyes found Harry through the crowd. "I understand why so many great men are throwing their lives away for such a simple boy."
"Ah yes, the Deathly Hallows." Harry might have choked had the time been different. "I did warn you and Albus how foolish it was, pursuing them."
"Yet here I stand with the Deathstick in my grasp and the others just beyond my fingertips." Grindelwald levelled the Elder Wand towards Flamel. "Will I be foolish when I possess all three and topple the systemic idiocies that cripple our dying continent?"
"Your speaking of such things provides a clear answer." Grindelwald's eyes narrowed as Flamel chuckled faintly. "You will never have them, Grindelwald."
Harry took a half step forward, sensing the spell building up inside the Elder Wand, but Flamel held up a hand. "Both of you stay back." Both of us? Throwing a glance over his left shoulder, Harry saw Emily had moved with him. "Just remember what I told you."
Which one of us?
Grindelwald's arm flashed up. "Avada Kedavra."
A wand appeared in Flamel's hand as fast as blinking.
WHOOSH!
A ring of fire rippled out from the place where Grindelwald's spell struck Flamel's counterstroke. Air, Harry realized. He conjured a shield from air.
Flamel staggered back towards the Black Lake's edge and Grindelwald disapparated. A flaming tongue still licked under the dark lord's robes when he reappeared, but he let it burn and slashed his wand toward the ancient alchemist.
Flamel raised his wand but no shield leapt forth. Instead, golden light pulsated along the patterns embroidered into the snow-white lace.
Runes, Harry realized. The patterns — they're runes.
The wall of force slammed against Flamel and tossed him backwards through the air.
"No!" It was Harry's voice, but he could not remember shouting.
His wand rose, but Flamel's body was already splashing into the lake.
That might not have killed him, he told himself. The spell threw him high, but it was water. He could have survived; he could have—
Gold light seared his eyes once more and the Black Lake surged out over the banks.
Harry threw himself flat against the ground and pulled his friends down with him. His neck burned when what had once been water passed above their heads.
Lurching back up to his feet, a breath hitched halfway up Harry's throat.
Golden fire swirled around the place where Grindelwald had stood.
"The purifying flames." Emily's mutter overflowed with awe. "He… he sacrificed himself and turned the lake into alchemical fire."
"It's not just magic that's all about sacrifice. Love is too."
"We won," Emily whispered. "It's over, we—"
A gout of black smoke plumed up from the heart of those golden flames. Hissing and spitting like an agitated serpent, it gnawed away at the fire's gilded brilliance.
"No." It was the most frightened he had ever heard her. "That's impossible! Nothing can alter those flames."
The Elder Wand. It was the only explanation.
Grindelwald's golden hair was gone when the smoke had faded. His robes were tattered, threadbare ruins and the right side of his face — red, raw, and marred by cracks carved deep into the ravaged flesh — seeped red blood and yellow pus in equal measure.
But those eyes were sharp and unblinking as they surveyed the awestruck crowd. "Who is the next to die?"
Author's Endnote:
My hat is off to anyone who guessed where I was going with 'Gress'; I know there were a fair few of you. It wasn't meant to be the subtlest thing — it's not quite the sort of twist that works when flung from left field — but well done to you all nonetheless.
Please read and review.
A heartfelt thank you is extended to my high-tier patron, Cup, for her unwavering support.
PS: The next chapter will be posted in exactly two weeks. It will be released here for readers on Wednesday, November 1st, 2023.
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