Nothing is mine.

Another strange chapter.

L'Étrange Mort

A low huddle of white tents sat in the dip between gentle valleys, clustered around the thin stream gushing through the long grass beneath gentle birdsong and thick grey clouds. The wind buffeted at her, tugging at her white robes, sending their hem snapping about her dark dragonhide boots.

Vert peered down into the water, studying the cool blue eyes and features she wore upon its rippling reflection. Parfait.

She tucked Charlie Weasley's wand up her sleeve and disapparated upstream, appearing among the tents.

Two wizards in dark grey robes bearing the white outline of a wolf-headed man drew their wands, but relaxed at the sight of the golden sword on her white robes.

'Where is Ansgar?' Vert asked.

'His tent.' One of them pointed at the largest white tent in the middle of the huddle. 'There.'

'Thank you.' She wiggled her way through them and knocked on the pole.

'Come in,' Ansgar called.

Vert ducked through the flap.

Ansgar drew himself up, swiping his thin, greying blonde hair back off his forehead with a burnt, blistered hand and straightening his long dark leather coat. 'We require no assistance, Fräulein Greengrass. We will hold the wards here for Grindelwald as commanded.'

'That is not why I am here.' She ran her eyes over the table, taking in the floating sparks of light upon the map. 'But how are you faring?'

Dark shadows rose in Ansgar's brown eyes. 'Not well. I'm not Julien, but you know I'm no slouch in a duel, and my aurors are well-trained. We had little trouble defending against Neville Longbottom's attacks across the Rhône, but the Duforts…'

Harry Potter's fake sisters. Vert's fingers crept to the slim bump of the ring beneath the skin of her finger. They were investigating too.

'What about them?'

'Well, you saw yourself at Novimagus. A month ago, they'd bat us back from the ward lines when we probed. The last time I tried to get the initiative back, they slaughtered half my aurors. I held them off while we pulled back.' A shiver tore through Ansgar's gaunt figure. 'I've seen a lot of obscure horrible spells; I know a lot of them; they're all lethal and hard to counter or block. I watched one of those three sisters pick herself up after I turned her lungs inside out. She was dead on the ground and then she got back up; I can't fight that and win, nobody can.'

Vert smiled. 'Mithras can. Grindelwald can.'

'Mithras…' Ansgar frowned, fiddling with the silver wolf's head brooch pinned to the lapel of his coat. 'A bold choice of name, but I have… heard things.'

'He defeated Suleiman single-handedly.'

'And sunk Constantinople, the last of our great ancient cities, into the sea.'

'Grindelwald is concerned Mithras has his own goals,' Vert murmured. 'I was sent to warn you to be wary of him and those that have chosen to follow him. They may betray us.'

'I understand. We will be cautious.' Ansgar turned to the table and rested his hands on its edge, staring down at the three floating blue dots near Arduenna Silva. 'Where is your sister? Normally she does all the talking for the two of you.'

'Not here.' Vert hunted for an excuse. 'Others needed to be warned without Mithras knowing we are warning everyone. And fast.'

'That explains the magic disguising your voice, but you should have changed your robes as well.' He reached out and tapped the map beside the three blue dots. 'Is Herr Grindelwald sending Mithras here next? I would expect the Duforts to pull back to Beauxbatons soon; half of France's children are trapped there, and they can only delay an attempt to intervene for so long…'

'Perhaps they will.' Vert pointed at the red dot with her left hand and let Charlie Weasley's wand slide down into her fingers, angling it up at the back of Ansgar's head. 'You can handle Neville Longbottom?'

'I lack the numbers to attack now, but I can defend. The Duforts I cannot hold back, but Neville Longbottom I will keep in check.'

'Reducto.'

The flash of red shattered Ansgar's skull like an egg, spraying blood and shards of pale bone across the tent.

His body slumped over the table and slid to the floor with a dull thump.

And so with you gone, Neville Longbottom is free to help me.

Vert disillusioned herself, slipping out of the tent.

The two wizards watched over the camp, chatting in low voices as she stalked around the tents toward them, levelling her wand at their heads.

'Ruptura,' she whispered.

The pale yellow beam punched a fist-sized hole through both skulls and they collapsed into the grass as her Disillusionment Charm failed.

Vert thrust Charlie Weasley's wand into the sky, forcing her magic through it into a crude lattice of shimmering wards.

Now for the rest. Fear bubbled up from the still dark sea hanging beneath her thoughts; a single secret floated to the surface. No risks. Ironclad certainty crept in its wake. I cannot be killed. I must not be discovered. My plan has to work. She tapped her sleeve, charming the robes black and stripping off the golden sword, transfiguring her hair back to dark brown. Just in case, then.

'Ardeo.' Vert swept a gout of green fire across the nearest tents and raised Charlie Weasley's wand.

The flames spread across the enchanted white cloth, licking at the supports and sending thick black smoke billowing through the camp.

A wizard in dark grey stumbled from a tent, barefoot and coughing.

She put three rupturing curses through his chest, tossing him back into the burning white shelter. 'Incendio.'

The next swathe of tents caught alight and the wind drove the rising flames through the grass, sweeping it into the remaining cluster of tents at the stream's edge. A handful of aurors fled their tents into the smoke, choking and spluttering as they cast bubblehead charms.

Vert fired a steady stream of curses through the smoke, tearing through the side of the group. Bright white shield charms sprang up from the remaining four and her spells burst against them in little ripples of yellow and blue.

They hurled hexes back, but she bent and swayed through them, deflecting a few back off the tip of Charlie Weasley's wand and jabbing it at the burning tents behind them.

'Accio,' she whispered.

The tents lurched forward, swallowing the four in burning fabric.

Vert picked them off one by one as they screamed and thrashed amidst the flames and smoke, straining her senses as the fire crackled and soared, the heat scorching her skin.

The Duforts killed nearly half the squad. She squashed the green fire with a swish of Charlie Weasley's wand. And now it is time for Neville Longbottom to do something useful.

Vert charmed her robes back to the design of the Walküren and transfigured her hair blonde, striding through the smoke into Ansgar's tent; she ripped the corner off his map and disapparated.

The broad Rhine rushed past beyond the muddy bank at her feet and the low ruins of Novimagus rising from the long flat island across the river.

Pressing the tip of Charlie Weasley's wand to the torn fragment of map, charming words across the fabric. 'Let me in, D.' Vert weighed it up. 'It will do.' She forced her magic through the wand, wrestling against its twist and tug, folding the piece of map into a small bird and sending it fluttering across the river.

Now I wait.

Vert scraped the ash off her boots against the bark of a tree, swiping all trace of grey from them in the nettles between its roots.

A twinge of pain bit through her finger as she grazed the bump of the ring against the trunk.

'When can I take you off?' she whispered. 'When can I be more than just Vert?'

The thick black fog hung still as stone at the centre of her mind and she balled her fists, ignoring the flash of pain across her finger.

Not yet. Maybe not until Mithras is gone. Vert felt the truth of it settle in her heart like a key clicking into place. But then everything unknown will be a secret no longer.

A slim paper dart soared down from the sky, bouncing off her shoulder. She snatched it out of the air before it fell into the mud and unfolded it.

Three words in rough, hurried handwriting scrawled across the page.

'At the square.'

Vert disapparated, appearing in the middle of Novimagus's square.

A ring of mirrored visors and tight red robes surrounded her.

'One fewer of us than last time,' Neville Longbottom growled, barging through them, his wand in his fist. 'Poor Sally-Anne had her throat ripped out by your pet vampire… I thought we had a deal.'

'We do.' She folded her arms, thinking fast. 'But appearances must be maintained if it is to be successful.'

He clenched his jaw, anger burning his brown eyes. 'When our deal is done, Greengrass, I will dedicate the rest of my life to making sure you end up before the court of the ICW to pay for your crimes.'

'What you do after our deal is finished is up to you.'

Neville Longbottom ground his teeth. 'Why are you here?'

'After we kidnapped Charlie Weasley to learn what Mithras's true intentions are, Mithras went to duel Suleiman.'

'And he won,' Neville spat. 'He killed Suleiman, who was considered the most powerful wizard in the world after Dumbledore, and he destroyed one of the few magical wonders of the world left.'

'And then he retaliated for Charlie Weasley's disappearance,' Vert said. 'Ansgar Fürstenburg and his aurors are all dead. I discovered this today after going to check why they stopped contacting us.'

'He was never going to serve Grindelwald for long,' Neville Longbottom muttered. 'He's out for himself. Whatever his ritual is, we won't like it.'

'A confrontation is coming. I will arrange an ambush to deal with him at Nurmengard before he can get to Grindelwald. There are no wards there, you only need a portkey.'

'I am not going anywhere until I know for sure it's not a trap.'

It is a trap. For Mithras. If he defeats Grindelwald, the sphinx will come, and if he kills that, I will summon you. He cannot defeat you all. The dark still sea of secrets shifted, stirring at the surface as if touched by the breeze. And when it is all in place, there is no need to be only Vert anymore.

'I said I would swear an oath,' Vert replied, swallowing a stab of need. 'I will.'

'We cannot go now,' Neville said. 'Présidente Desrosiers has demanded Beauxbatons be rescued; even if Fürstenburg really is gone, we will still have to go there first with the Duforts.'

'Appearances have to be maintained,' she murmured. 'But where there is no risk, I will help to tip the balance in your favour. De Mendoza and Marie Renner are valuable but an acceptable price for the head of Mithras and the Greater Good.'

Neville shook his head, disgust gleaming in his brown eyes. 'I don't know how you can stand yourself. You or your sister.'

'I will bring the portkey here after Beauxbatons,' Vert said. 'And we will both swear to uphold our half of the deal.'

'Done,' Neville snapped. 'Now get out, before I drag you back to Britain and drop you in a dark hole for the rest of your life.'

Vert disapparated, stepping out into the Sunshine Room and sweeping past the brazier's flickering white flames and the floating glass lanterns into room five.

I need to think of an oath for Neville Longbottom to swear.

She sliced her finger open with the tip of Charlie Weasley's wand, tugging the warm, blood-slickened ring out and healing herself.

Vert transfigured her hair dark brown once more, forcing her magic through the protesting wand to change the colour of each strand of muscle in her eye and setting it down atop a worn copy of The Art of Self-Fashioning. 'He has to commit to doing it. An absolute commitment.' She grabbed a bent quill and a pot of ink, rummaging around through the stacks of books for a spare piece of parchment. 'That way, he will bind his purpose to achieving it, and do it or die trying.'

It has to be certain. The thick dark fog stirred somewhere among her thoughts, the shape of words loomed from it, hovering on the tip of her tongue. No risks.

AN: You know this bit! Follow the linktree for Discord and early access to an extra chapter, or some support me to read all my original stuff and my rough drafts!

linktr . ee / mjbradley