Chapter 22

Someone picked her up. Emily's first instinct was to hex them. Because stop touching her. Immediately. Peon. But they smelled nice so instead she took her revenge by wrapping her arms around his neck. She pressed her face into his skin and inhaled deeply as she let her weight rest in his arms.

He didn't seem to have any trouble carrying her. Which even she had to admit was a nice change of pace. Martin had only managed it a couple of times, and usually only on special occasions. And hell, one of those times she'd been an emaciated teenager. By her wedding night, when he did carry her over the final threshold, she'd put on at least two stones and his steps were shakier than she'd recalled from the first attempt.

Not that she remembered the first attempt all that well. Her memory of the night was much more coherent after she'd dozed off in the bathtub. All she remembered about his long walk from the garage to the bathroom was hoping she didn't vomit on him as the memories of her family rushed through her head.

Still, he'd made that long walk. But years later the few steps to the bedroom had nearly done him in. She'd felt bad about it. So she'd taken over once they'd gotten to that point. She'd touched him, caressed him, undressed him, and finally pulled him onto her, ceding the last bit of control to him.

Now, older and wiser, she wondered why she hadn't done anything for his leg with magic. It was hard to really reconcile her younger self to her older mind. She saw that version of her as nothing more than a stupid little girl clinging to a fantasy that didn't actually exist. She struggled to understand why little things like following the laws and rules were so much at the forefront of her mind.

She could have fixed him with a wave of her hand. Maybe not as soon as they were married. She hadn't spent much time looking into healing spells as a young adult. She knew some basic first aid, every duelist did, because accidents happened. Something as complicated as a decade old leg injury, well, she could have almost certainly 'fixed' it on their wedding night, but could she have done it right?

Even she had to admit that probably not without some research. But it wasn't like that research would be out of the realm of her ability. A couple of weeks at absolute worst. And, given her own prodigious opinion of herself, she suspected it wouldn't even take that long.

But she'd never known him without the limp and without the bad leg. It was one of the many features of what made him, well, him. Part of her liked that he was broken. It gave them something in common even if she'd never spoken of her own issues. She thought he knew. He had to have picked up on something. Still, he'd never asked.

And that was half the problem with his leg. He had to have known from very early on in their engagement that she could heal his leg. But he'd never asked. It was a weak excuse, she knew. She could have made his life so much easier. And so much better. She'd reflected on it more times than she cared to count.

No one would have had to know. He could have simply shrugged his shoulders and said that one morning he'd woken up and it had felt, well, normal. It would be a miracle. But there were always stories of weird recoveries.

She was sure that once people grew used to him not limping again they'd forget that he ever had. It would be as simple as that. It seemed perhaps a tad dismissive of people in general, but how often did they care to investigate something so simple? And what would there really even be to investigate? It wasn't like they'd have expected foul play or anything.

And then what all would have been different? He'd have been more capable, not that he wasn't. But there would have been less need to rest his leg, or worry about how long he could stay on it for,

She assumed his physical capabilities had probably cost him a promotion or two in his career. Not for any reason other than general bigotry, mind you, but all of the firms seemed to be big on appearances. And while he was fairly young and handsome, he was still a cripple.

And while he'd served in the war, his claim to flame was being evacuated from Dunkirk with a bullet in his leg. Not heroically liberating Europe.

She wondered if she helped at all. Afterall, he did have a pretty young wife who clearly adored him. But when she compared herself to the other wives, she always came up short. She wasn't as good at hosting events as they were. She wasn't as good at makeup, or cooking, or anything of that nature. And while she did try, she knew she always came off as a little dour and a little standoffish.

She wanted them to adore her, to love her, to love the little parties when he had to host them, to compliment her cooking and her outfits, and her little London home. But she never thought they did. Even if they seemed personable, she always felt like she was the imposter. Like the weird little girl no one really wanted around. And she figured that must have also affected his work life to some degree.

She really had tried too. She tried to be personable, to be interested in their kids and their clothing and their vacations and the other inane things they talked about at any sort of company function or party.

No matter how much effort she put into it, though, she never felt like any of them really liked her. Looking back she couldn't help but wonder how much of that was because she had no real idea what that looked like.

They asked her opinion, they asked her to help with things, they included her in their conversations, even when she was standoffish or confused. What more should she have expected from them?

The thought always confused her. She knew she wasn't good enough. She knew they knew she wasn't good enough. But she was never sure of what she should do, or have done. In the end, she suspected having a weird mousy wife with a penchant for cooking oriental food helped his career about as much as his disability had.

But none of those thoughts were the ones that really lingered in the back of her mind. They weren't the ones that kept her up all night, or that contributed to her nightmares. The one stupid stray thought she could never fully get out of her mind.

They'd had a lovely, albeit uneventful dinner with his parents. Unlike the wives of his work associates, his parents seemed to love her. Not enough to try her home-made sashimi, but, well, not everyone was perfect.

She couldn't remember the specific conversations they'd had that night. But they were almost certainly about the baby. That topic dominated most of the family related conversations. There was always a sort of odd dynamic about it. They seemed to admire the fact that she held down a stable job as an antiques dealer, they'd embellished her role slightly, but also seemed to agree with him that she should probably shift into a more stay-at-home role going forward.

She didn't remember exactly when, but at some point Martin's father had broached the subject of perhaps coming up with a sort of catalog service for the antiques, or working out of the house. The man had a passion for numismatics, leading to her and Martin finding him a silver drachm featuring Alexander the Great for Christmas. He wanted to turn that passion project into a career of sorts.

Emily hadn't thought it would ever get off the ground. But he made a fairly convincing argument toward giving it a shot. The idea intrigued her to some degree. But he never seemed to have a very good idea of what it would take to acquire a stock to shill to collectors.

So she assumed the conversations that evening were about antiques and babies and the general hectic nature of life. She knew they were planning a trip to the south of France to enjoy the weather and was sure that had to have come up as well. But the conversations felt unimportant in her memory. She couldn't place exactly when all of them happened, just that they did.

It was strange then that she could remember other details of that night with absolute clarity. She remembered the mediocre bread. She remembered thinking the portions of her grilled fish were smaller than she'd have liked. She knew they had to have discussed the rationing that plagued the Muggle world at the time. Something she and Martin faced very little of given that she did most of her shopping in the magical world.

She remembered thinking the tart they'd ordered for dessert sounded delicious but that Amelia disagreed almost as soon as it hit her tongue. She remembered the most enjoyable part of the meal being the gin martinis she guzzled down.

She laughed at that thought now. She wondered just when alcohol and pregnancy became such a no-no. She didn't drink that much. But no one had even hesitated to serve her and her growing belly back then.

But those memories were unimportant compared to what would come. They walked out of the restaurant together as a foursome. They let his parents take the first cab that approached. Martin slipped his father some money to cover the fare for their longer journey home. She'd looked toward the second when he'd asked her a simple question.

Did she feel up to walking?

No. She didn't. Not really. She was pregnant, her feet hurt. She was fat and spent far too much time on her feet in general and ugh. Normally she would have agreed without question. She liked walking. But that evening she was definitely feeling the effects of her condition.

But it wasn't that far. And it was a nice evening with delightfully cool evening air. And he never felt up for a long walk. Granted it wasn't that far of a walk, but still more than he would usually offer.

The alcohol, she knew, must have dulled the throbbing in his leg. He would regret it in the morning. But sure, she agreed. They could walk home.

It was the dumbest decision she ever made. And it all stemmed back to one major fault.

If he hadn't been crippled she wouldn't have ever agreed to it. At that point she wanted to get home, to lay down, and to flush the taste of the remnants of dessert out of her mouth.

But he'd offered to do something that deep down he had to know would hurt him. Solely because he knew she would have enjoyed it. It seemed far too petulant to argue with it. So they'd walked.

If it hadn't been something rare. If it hadn't been a special treat. Then there would have been no need to do it. They would have climbed into the next cab without a thought in the world and shortly thereafter returned to their home and gone to bed.

That should have been the end of it. She'd been more than a little tipsy. And it had been a rather fun evening. There was a good chance they'd have had some fun once they'd arrived at home.

She'd been less and less in the mood, as it were, as the pregnancy progressed. But she remembered feeling, well, good that evening. And he seemed obsessed with the changes she was going through. Which she didn't understand but didn't mind.

But instead they'd walked. And they'd walked straight to the men who would end their lives. All because she'd never thought to ask him if he'd prefer to have two fully functioning legs.

Hell, she didn't even need to ask him. She could have just done it and feigned ignorance. How hard would it have been to smile brightly at him and say she had no idea. Maybe his proximity to her magic had caused some of it to leech out and heal him.

It was an absurd theory, of course, but he didn't need to know that. He would have accepted it because she suggested it. And she couldn't fathom that he would have been upset about it.

But she didn't think of any of this until after it was all over. And a small part of her wondered why. Did she really want to play the Muggle wife that badly? Not badly enough to actually listen to their stupid rationing. But badly enough that she'd ignored the easiest magical solution to a problem they faced.

If she'd have only done so then there was a chance her arms would be wrapped happily around him. Her face would be pressed against his neck. His scent would be filling her nostrils, reminding her of the moments they spent so close together.

Not that the current scent was bad. It was actually quite the opposite. She pressed herself against it more, taking in more of the crisp, almost woodland notes of it. Her lips found skin, mostly unwillingly.

And then she remembered the stupid gem in her pocket and decided it was best to not act on thoughts that were almost certainly being influenced by the stupid sex gem. So instead she continued to feign sleep as she was carried up an extensive flight of stairs. A feat she couldn't help but wonder if Martin could have pulled off even with a healed leg.

The sound of a door opening signaled the end of her free ride. She felt herself being lowered until she was laying on her bed. She didn't open her eyes, or do anything to lead him to believe she was actually awake.

A few moments later she heard the door close and the sound of footsteps descending once more. She opened her eyes and wasn't surprised to find herself in her bedroom at Hogwarts. She meant to get out of bed and change. Part of her wanted to follow the man back down the stairs and insist she didn't need to be on bedrest.

But she felt rather empty. Her eyes were protesting being open and felt heavier than they should have. And the bed was comfortable. A few minutes of rest wasn't going to cost her anything too important. And she knew it was better for her image to appear at her best at every possible moment.

She let her eyes close, intending to recharge for just a few moments.

Hours later she reopened them. She felt herself frown immediately. The dreams had returned, but that shouldn't have surprised her given what she could still feel in her pocket. She could tell she'd been out for a while. Early morning light filtered into the room.

She stifled a yawn as she sat up on the bed. She was still clothed and hadn't managed her way under the covers. A cool breeze blew through the room, causing her to shiver slightly. She peered around the room, nothing seemed out of place although it was cleaner than she'd left it. The elves must not have been able to resist.

She saw two covered silver platters on the small table in the corner. She'd made a sort of library nook but hadn't ever really used it, opting for her dungeon study instead more often than not. She claimed to herself that she did it so Harry didn't know where she was. But she suspected he knew and didn't care.

Rather reluctantly she drew herself out of bed. She took a few minutes to clean out her pockets, wincing slightly as her skin touched the gem once more. It didn't feel as powerful as it had in the cavern but it still had a pretty obvious effect on her. An effect she combated with a very warm and very relaxing shower.

She tossed on a robe and walked back into the tower bedroom. She lifted the cover from one of the silver platters and immediately made a face at the contents. Filet mignon au poivre béarnaise sauce and an assortment of sprouts didn't appeal to her in the least. She put the cover back on it and checked the second one.

Scrambled eggs, toast and sausage also didn't stick out as a particularly interesting meal. But breakfast sounded better than dinner so she tucked in.

Shortly after she finished she decided to organize what she'd brought back from Iran. Granted, there wasn't much of it. But she figured she should at least be sure of what she had and what she didn't. She was sorting through Grindelwald's papers when there was a soft knocking on her door.

"It's open," she said, having no real idea if it was or wasn't. But the door opened and Harry Potter walked in.

"We're about to have a," he started as she looked up from the small table she was leaning over. He stopped speaking. Paused for a moment and looked away. She peered toward the mirror and saw that the robe was essentially hanging off of her body. She didn't mind, it didn't seem like something to be concerned about. She couldn't think of any reason why she should be concerned.

At least until she saw the pink gem pulse on the table.

"Nice," Priya Patel said, slipping around Harry and into her room. She did not blush, nor did she make any attempt to look away from the other witch. Emily raised her brows and peered back at her.

"Oh?" she asked, tilting her head to the side. She couldn't help but play the role of the coquette just a little. Something about it made her feel more alive than she had in, well, decades. But if her smirk did anything to rattle the other woman she didn't show it on her face. Instead, all she did was shrug her shoulders.

"You're pretty and you have nice tits," Priya said. She may as well been reporting on the weather for all the inflection she put on the words. "There's worse things to look at."

"You think so?" Emily teased.

"We're having a meeting," Priya said. She walked over toward the dresser and plucked up the silver watch. Emily narrowed her eyes at the Indian healer snatching one of her possessions, until she remembered that it wasn't one of her possessions. She straightened up though and wrapped the robe tighter around herself.

"About?" she asked.

"Going over the info you journaled back and what Harry and Avery saw while they were there. I suspect you'll be able to provide more insight. Harry thought he saw you snag some documents before you left," Priya said.

"I did," Emily nodded, gesturing down to the journals and gem in front of her. "I haven't had time to read through them yet. But I have a fairly good idea what they say."

"I see," Priya said as she approached. She traced her fingers over one of the journals as she peered down at everything on the table. The gem decided it was a good time to send another pulse of magic through the room.

Emily watched as Priya's eyes widened and saw her bite her bottom lip. Her attention flashed to the pink stone and then her brows shot up as her gaze shifted toward Emily. It was her turn to shrug her shoulders.

"It's a long story," she said. "And one with a fair amount of speculation involved."

"So that's what that was?" Harry asked.

"Probably?" Emily said.

"There was something odd in the air in the mountain. I was too distracted by Grindelwald to focus on it but it was almost like something else was going on in my head," Harry said.

"Which head?" Priya teased.

"Funny," Harry retorted as Emily chuckled.

"Anyway. Half hour in Harry's office?" Priya asked.

"Find somewhere more secluded," Emily said. Priya and Harry both raised their brows at her.

"Why?" Harry asked.

"I know you can silence the portraits in your office. But you can't prevent them from speaking anywhere else. And I'm not sure you should trust them," Emily said. Harry's initial response was to look at her like it was one of the dumbest suggestions he'd ever heard. But that only lasted the briefest of instants before he pressed his lips together and then frowned.

"Good point," he said. "I know some of them also have portraits in the ministry. It wouldn't be too difficult to compel them to speak, even if they didn't want to."

"Exactly," Emily agreed.

"I should have thought of that," Priya frowned.

"There's nothing in my quarters. We'll just do it in the sitting room there," Harry said.

"Good enough," Priya said. She looked toward the papers and gem on the table. "You mind if I take these?"

"Go ahead," Emily said. Priya gathered up the files.

"Harry, be a dear and grab the gem?" she asked. He nodded and walked toward the table. Both women watched as he reached for it. Emily did a far better job of hiding her smirk than Priya. But he noticed and instead of touching the stone he levitated it out of her chamber. She could hear Priya teasing him about it as they left.

Emily spent a few minutes dressing and making herself more presentable than was probably necessary for the type of meeting she expected would happen. A half hour or so later she entered the Head's Chambers.

"Drink?" Avery offered as she looked around. She took a pumpkin juice, thanking him, and sipped it slowly. Fumiko, Priya and Harry were all sitting around a large, peering through the documents. Avery moved to the wall behind his wife and leaned against it. Neville was standing across from them, peering at a map of Iran marked with the locations she'd journaled from. He was tracing a finger across part of it, her magical journal in his hand.

The pink gem sat in the center of the table. But it was surrounded by constantly whirling purple tendrils of Harry's power, creating a sort of moving cage around it. She didn't sense any specific power coming from it. A small pang in her chest made her wonder if she actually missed the feelings it brought.

"This is fascinating," Harry said. He slid whatever he was reading around and pointed out a specific passage.

"It's an interesting theory," Priya said. "But I'm not sure it's possible."

"It is," Emily said as she sipped her pumpkin juice.

"They succeeded?"

"I think so. But I don't think in the way they intended. And I'm not sure what the exact catalyst was. I'm hoping it's in those notes," Emily said.

"What did you see?" Priya asked.

"A lot," Emily shrugged. "And I think out of order. I didn't connect it all at first. I assumed problem A and problem B weren't related. Now? I'm not as positive. Did you tell them what I journaled about in the town?"

"Just that you put down an insane wizard who was abusing people," Neville commented. He traced his finger back up the map. Emily assumed he was pinpointing the location of the town in question.

"That's what I thought at the time," Emily agreed. Part of her was surprised she wasn't getting a lecture from one of them about murder. But no one made any comment. She moved closer to the table and peered down at the papers.

"But you don't think that now?" Harry asked. He tilted his head to the side as he peered at her. "Do you think he was innocent?"

"No, I'm positive he wasn't," Emily said. "That much was obvious to anyone around. I don't think he was a wizard."

"That is impossible," Avery said.

"You said he was using magic," Fumiko said.

"Or something close enough," Emily agreed.

"But he wasn't a wizard?" Priya asked.

"I don't think so," Emily said. She paused for a moment as she debated her words. "It all felt too, I don't know, new I guess is the best word. Like it wasn't something he'd been doing for more than a few weeks at best. Like he was still pushing his limits."

"It's not unheard of for power to go to a young wizard's head," Priya said. "We've had cases of them breaking before. There's more than a handful of men in Azkaban for the same things, more or less."

"And we find it and deal with it. Quickly. Magic like that is obvious. The Iranian ministry couldn't have been more than a couple of days behind me," she said.

"Maybe they're just incompetent?" Harry suggested. They all knew that wasn't the case. The bureaucracy of it may not have been the same as the British Ministry, but they were more than capable of detecting dark magic that powerful.

"I don't think so. The more I think about it the more I'm convinced that I stumbled onto it at an incredibly lucky time," Emily admitted.

"I don't believe in coincidence," Neville said.

"I don't like it either," Emily agreed. "But I honestly think it was luck. And that they expected me to fail miserably.

"The German you mean?" Priya asked. Emily had written about him. Both his stumbling upon her and Karim that one morning. And his inviting her back to their research camp, as she'd called it before she knew it was a mountain lair.

"Yes," Emily agreed. "I'm not sure what their plan was. But I think he saw it as a way to rid himself of a magical inconvenience in the area. They had to think I was with someone's government and investigating something but was just being particularly aloof. When I proved to be more capable he kept an eye on me. In hindsight I wonder if it was just so they'd know where I was until Grindelwald showed up."

"So wait," Fumiko interrupted, peering up from the papers before her. "You think that they did it?"

"Yes," Emily said.

"Intentionally?" Priya asked.

"No."

"How then?"

"I have no idea. I don't think it was the gem. I think they were using the gem as a catalyst for something else. I think it was the water. I'd guess that it flowed into the village. But that has problems of its own," Emily said.

"Like why there was only one person exhibiting symptoms," Neville said.

"Yes," Emily agreed. "I think that's part of why it took me so long to link the two."

"This vial is the water?" Priya asked, lifting up the small sample of it she'd managed to sneak out.

"Yes. I hoped to get more but that didn't end up working out," she answered. Harry levitated the vial toward him and examined it. She felt the soft flare of his magic as he peered at it. He wasn't doing anything too advanced. Or, really, anything different than she would have for a first examination.

"Nothing pops out," he said, frowning. Everyone in the room knew that meant absolutely nothing. Emily nodded and silence reigned for a moment. She moved toward the table and conjured a piece of drafting paper and a pencil and started to draw.

Harry spent a few more minutes examining the water before offering it to Avery. He and Neville took their own turns peering at it while Harry looked over her shoulder. She drew the font as best she could from memory. It wasn't a particularly talented drawing. Harry added a touch here or there, which annoyed her, until she realized he'd recalled it better. When she finished, and he nodded his agreement, she slid it to the center of the table. Fumiko closed the journal she was reading through and peered at it.

"What's this?" she asked.

"It's where they housed the gem," Harry answered.

"It's where most of the magic emanated from. It sort of bubbled the water up and around before it disappeared. I'm not sure how it was linked to the river. I would have liked more time to look at it but they found me and attacked shortly after I found it," Emily explained. Fumiko frowned and peered at it.

"Nice of them," Harry shrugged.

"It surprised me a little, to be honest," Emily said.

"Why?" Neville asked.

"I just felt wrong?" Emily answered with a shrug of her shoulders.

"But why?" Neville asked. She raised her eyes to meet him, giving him a glare she'd often reserved for Death Eaters who questioned her. The former-Auror didn't flinch from her gaze and had the gall to continue to speak to her. "As an investigator I learned to delve into those odd feelings more. If your brain is telling you something was odd or wrong, it probably was."

"Well, wasn't that why I was supposed to be there?" she asked. Neville shrugged his shoulders as if he couldn't answer that question for her.

"Is that what they said?" Neville probed.

"No. But it felt implied. They thought I had potential and could help them with whatever their task was," Emily said. "They were personable although they didn't talk about it much."

"So they never told you how you would be able to help them?" Neville asked.

"No. But I didn't ask either," Emily admitted. "They said they would discuss it with the boss when he returned and go from there."

"And that was Grindelwald?" Neville asked.

"Yes," Emily said. "But I didn't like the thought of waiting around to be told what to do so I explored a bit and stumbled my way into their little inner sanctum. It wasn't that difficult to find. I would have done a much better job of hiding it if I had an unwelcome intruder."

"So they either didn't see you as an intruder or doubted your ability," Neville concluded.

"That's what I thought," Emily agreed. "Once I found it though, their attitude changed pretty much immediately."

"I see," Neville said.

"I would have been skeptical too. I mean I did sneak around and was looking through their stuff. I don't think their reaction was too unhinged," Emily said. She figured there wasn't much of a point to add that she'd constrained one of their number before she wandered off.

"Coming from you I'm not sure how much credit we should give that," Harry quipped.

"I don't think it sounds like they had much interest in you helping them with whatever they were doing. At least not in the sense of another pair of hands," Neville said.

"Me either," Emilly admitted. "But I'm not sure why they wouldn't just Obliviate me and call it a day then."

"May not have thought they could. You showed strength in the village, dealing with a problem they seemed to have struggled with. Probably concerned you'd resist it and fight back," Neville shrugged. It was as easy of an explanation as anything else. "Would also explain placating you, more or less, and waiting for Grindelwald."

"Kill me with kindness?"

"Yes."

"Hey Alex? Can you come here?" Fumiko asked, interrupting them. Avery turned to face his wife, clearly wondering what she could be asking about.

"What's up?" he asked. She placed her hand on the pencil drawing of the font and spun it around for him to look at.

"Doesn't this look familiar?" she asked.

"I don't think so," he answered with a frown. His eyes narrowed as he focused more on the drawing. He gave it a few seconds before shaking his head. "What am I missing?"

"Remember that old shrine we toured outside of Aomori?" she asked.

"Oh yeah," he said. "That was more triangular though."

"Except the guide said parts of it were missing," she answered. She picked up the pencil and drew two quick dashes through the picture. Avery's lips pressed together and he nodded.

"That's remarkably close," he agreed. "But I don't remember sensing any magic there. Remember you teased me about that?"

"Yes but we were there before Harry succeeded. Didn't you say minor traces of magic were much harder to sense anywhere in Japan then?"

"Well yes," Avery admitted.

"And it's not like we went back to check," Fumiko continued.

"We did not," Avery agreed. "Did you remember where it was?"

"I mean, not exactly but I'm sure we could find it if we went back," Fumiko said. She turned her gaze toward Priya.

"Hmm," the healer intoned. "Table that for now. Did you remember anything else about it?"

"Not really," Fumiko admitted. "They thought it seemed like a ritual altar of some type. But the guide wasn't sure what it could have been used for or even how old it was. She'd made a comment that there were some who thought it predated the shrine."

"Interesting," Harry said. "Maybe we should check it out."

"How public was it?" Priya asked.

"A semi-popular tour led us to it?"

"I seem to recall there were a handful of other tourists with us as well," Avery added.

"It would be easy for us to pop over and take a peek at," Fumiko said.

"I worry about Grindelwald's reaction if he sees part of our party rush straight off to Japan after coming back. I'd rather not draw his attention there. Your anniversary is next month," Priya said.

"The seventeenth," Avery agreed.

"Have you planned anything?" Priya asked.

"Just a fancy dinner," Avery said with a slight blush. Emily raised her brows at him. She'd have expected better. But, at the same time, she didn't know enough about Fumiko's tastes to judge him.

"Perhaps a trip to see the in-laws is in order then," Priya suggested. Fumiko nodded.

"We can arrange that," she said.

"I'll reach out to the contacts I still have in Japan and have them keep me in the loop of anything weird that happens in the region," Priya continued. "We can expedite it if something comes up. But I'd rather you go when there's a ready-made excuse."

"I'll start getting the plans in motion," Fumiko said. "I'm sure my parents will be happy to see us."

"You," Avery laughed. Fumiko rolled her eyes at him.

"They like you," she said.

"They would if I was twenty years younger."

"Oh hush."

"So you think it was the water?" Priya asked, turning her gaze back toward Emily. She summoned the vial of it to her and peered at it. She shook it, frowning as nothing important happened. But she did not bother casting any of the same spells the two men had before her. After a moment, she placed it down on the table.

"I thought it the most likely option. The font seemed centered around it. They made comments about it strengthening them," Emily explained.

"Did you sample it or should I pop open that vial and drink it?" Harry asked. He was teasing, she knew, and it drew a smile out of her.

"I think I drank it. I know I bathed in it," Emily said.

"And how'd that go?" Harry asked.

"It made me wet," she said, dryly.

"Clever," Harry shook his head at her. He didn't notice Fumiko's blush or Priya's eye roll.

"The gem was in the font?" Priya asked.

"Sort of above it," Emily said. "The water would bubble up around it then fall back down and seep away. It would pulse with power every few minutes. The strength varied but I didn't notice it specifically until I was in the same room as it."

"And the boy in the town. You said the nature of his power was sexual?" Priya asked. Emily nodded. She saw Harry tilt his head toward them, his eyes widened for a moment and she suspected he figured out her little joke. A slight blush rose on his own cheeks.

"Indirectly at least. I didn't let him live long enough to determine if it was purely mind based or something more. I think there was a component of it that pushed in that direction. But mostly I think he figured out how to dominate minds and used it to do what he wanted. I could be wrong through. I didn't examine him that closely. I didn't want to spend any more time in his mind than I had to," Emily explained.

"He used the power on you, didn't he?" Priya asked.

"Yes," Emily said. "It was strong. But more because I didn't expect it than anything else. Once I regained a modicum of focus I was able to resist it."

"But you're you," Priya said.

"I am," Emily acquiesced. "But it wasn't like the Imperius curse or anything. It was clear as day that not only was something in my head, but that it was him. He made no effort to conceal it. I'm not sure he even could have. Any of us could have resisted him. But the Muggle women of his village didn't have our gifts."

"Interesting," Priya said. She peered down at the drawing of the font. Then turned her gaze to the gem. And then a few moments later toward Emily before she looked back to the font and repeated the process.

"What are you on to?" Harry asked, seeming to recognize her expression quickly. It must have been obvious to him, Emily thought, given that they'd spent so much time doing research together.

"There were supposedly people there, were there not?" she asked. Harry shrugged his shoulders.

"That group that tried to take credit for the explosion allegedly operated out of the area on occasion," Harry said. "But we do not have anything definitive."

"And you didn't encounter anything like that?" Priya asked.

"Nothing," Emily admitted.

"So where did they go?"

"I assume Grindelwald dealt with them," Emily tried to not sound too peevish as she assumed it was the obvious answer.

"Yes," Priya agreed. "But without using them?"

"What are you getting at?" Avery asked.

"He would have had a group of people that he could have done nearly anything to without any repercussions. One that we can't find any trace of even existing at this point. Would you have thought Grindelwald constructed the caves?" Priya asked.

"No. The enchantments on them focused more on modification than constructing," Emily answered.

"So we have a magical font of some sort, a gem that focuses on pleasure and possibly enchanted water of some sort. I can take the water to the hospital and better check it there to find out exactly what's in it. But I think we're looking at this wrong."

"How so?" Harry asked.

"They gave the kid power. Specifically power almost identical to that of the gem," Priya said.

"The husks of the women I found would argue it's different from the gem," Emily argued.

"Perhaps not if it was focused on them for an extended time and they had no idea what was going on and ended up feeling like they were constantly losing themselves," Fumiko added. Emily frowned but nodded in agreement.

"Why would they do that, though?" Harry asked.

"I doubt it was intentional," Priya said. "But I think whatever they were doing carried down to the village and somehow he was affected. We're assuming he was the only one yet she found one of Grindelwald's party making his way to the village and was aware of what was going on."

"So you think it happened more than once," Avery said.

"In some form or another, yes," Priya answered. "And I think it was their goal."

"What was? To cause chaos in some mountain town?" Harry asked.

"To give someone magic," Priya answered. Silence followed. Emily peered out a window, watching students run around the grounds below. It was Fumiko who first spoke.

"That's impossible," she said.

"Is it?" Priya asked. "As a concept it's not too dissimilar to how we heal people."

"The healed people don't retain the magic from the healer," Avery said.

"Perhaps not. But what did Grindelwald always claim?" Priya asked.

"That magic was superior, no matter the form," Emily answered. It drew a few looks from the others in the room but she kept her focus outside the office.

"Exactly," Priya said. "If he could do it. He could rid the world of Muggles."

"I doubt he's that magnanimous," Harry said.

"And if it can be given," Priya continued, ignoring Harry's interjection. She let her voice trail off as if waiting for someone else to finish the sentence.

"It can be taken away," Emily finished.

"Theoretically he could use people like conduits. You said they claimed they all grew more powerful there. But didn't know exactly why. What if they'd been doing that for weeks. They took the people that were there, imbued them with their own magic, waited for their recovery, and then took it back. Theoretically, it could work," Priya said.

"Why use the gem?" Harry asked.

"No idea," Priya shrugged. "Maybe they need a magical item as an intermediary. Maybe it helps control or calm the people they were experimenting on. Maybe they're just deviants. A lot of these journals focus on magical storage and power transfers. Did anyone there seem unnaturally powerful to you?"

"Just Grindelwald," Harry said. "But it didn't feel much different than France."

"The others didn't try to fight," Emily said. "They evacuated almost immediately."

"And Harry isn't always the best judge of other's abilities. He compares too many to himself," Avery added. Harry's only defense to the statement was to shrug his shoulders.

"And it's not like we had a baseline anyway. Maybe had you brought Neville," Emily said.

"Me?"

"I'm betting his main minion, a Jochen, was in France. Didn't you deal with the trash in France?"

"Oh, yes. Blonde, tall, annoying smirk?"

"That's him," Emily agreed.

"Six out of ten," Neville shrugged. It grew a slight giggle from Emily. But no one commented on it.

"I have to wonder," Avery said, peering around the room. "If he's trying to give magic to Muggles…why should we stop him?"

"Says the Death Eater?" Neville asked. Avery frowned. Emily found herself wondering if there was more animosity there than she'd noticed. Neville tended to be level-headed. This was the first sign she'd had of anything.

"I've had opinions on Muggles for most of my life," Avery shrugged. "But I've also lived with them and traveled among them. And I've heard travel is one of the best educations. If Grindelwald can make everyone magical. Why shouldn't we let him?"

"We shouldn't," Harry said. Everyone but Emily turned to look at him. She kept her attention focused on the ground. Some sort of commotion was drawing the attention of the students, but, from her vantage in Harry's sitting room, she couldn't make out what it was. Part of her wondered if she should investigate or if a Professor should figure out what was going on. But that wasn't her job and, honestly, she wasn't interested in doing it.

"So what are we doing then?" Avery asked.

"I don't know," Harry said. "But I can't imagine he's doing it for the Greater Good. Unless he's so nuts that he thinks blowing up a couple of random towns helps his cause."

"Well, it's not like he'll ever admit to either of those," Fumiko said.

"He won't," Harry agreed. "So we need to find something in these journals that helps us. If what Priya said is true, there has to be something here."

"I'm sure Hermione will be interested in dissecting them," Priya said, paging through one they hadn't looked at in detail yet.

"Where is she anyway?" Harry asked.

"I don't know," Priya said. "I contacted her last night and told her our plans. She said she'd be here."

"That's strange," Harry said. And then, as if on cue, his fireplace roared.

"Harry?" Hermione's voice rang through the sitting room. Emily ignored it and moved closer to the window, peering out down at the grounds.

"We were wondering where you were," Harry said.

"You have to leave," Hermione said.

"What?" Harry laughed. "Why?"

"Something's going on outside," Emily said. In a moment Priya Patel was at her side. They peered together out the window. She could feel Neville standing behind her.

"Grindelwald approached Fudge last night. I've gotten most of this through hearsay. They had a meeting until early in the morning," Hermione said.

"Great, bring him on," Harry smirked at the fire, no concern evident in his voice.

"No. You need to leave," Hermione said.

"Why would I do that?"

"He claims he has proof you're behind what happened in Iran. A freaking mountain exploded Harry. It's a miracle the nearby villages weren't wiped out. He's claiming he stopped that from happening," Hermione said. She spoke faster and faster, seeming to have no interest in stopping for a simple thing like oxygen.

"Prick," Emily scoffed under her breath.

"Well that's bullshit. It was his lair," Harry said.

"It doesn't matter," Hermione said. "Fudge doesn't care. It's a magical explosion like what happened in France and you caused it."

"Only because I apparated through his wards," Harry said.

"That doesn't make it better! But that doesn't matter," Hermione said.

"Sure it does," Harry argued.

"No. He knows who Emily is," Hermione said.

"So?"

"He told Fudge who Emily is!" Hermione yelled. "He knows you revived Lord Voldemort. He is coming to Hogwarts with an entire contingent of Aurors and two hundred Dementors."

"Great, we can have a nice conversation about the future," Harry said.

"No," Priya interjected.

"What?" Harry asked.

"You can't attack them," Hermione said. "It will just prove everything Fudge thought about you."

"I've frozen Aurors around him before," Harry shrugged.

"And now doing it means you're a Dark Lord taught by the greatest Dark Witch they've ever had to deal with," Hermione hissed.

"She's right," Priya said. "We need to leave."

"Oh it can't be that bad," Harry said.

"They're already here," Emily responded as the dementors led the charge over the castle grounds, Aurors following at their heels. Most of the students ran away. But some simply fell where they stood, hands flashing to their faces.

"What is he doing," Harry frowned. Emily felt magic flare in him. She turned to look and to argue with him. This was all her fault, she figured. She could fix it easily enough. And really, she wasn't that big of a sacrifice in general. While she might be too much of a coward to end it herself at least if the Dementors kissed her she doubted she'd have much of a memory left to wallow.

But Priya's hand was already on Harry's chest, shaking her head as she stared at him.

"We need to leave," she ordered. Harry raised his brows.

"They have orders to Kiss all of you except Neville on site," Hermione continued. "You don't want to turn Hogwarts into a battle ground. I can try to work on it from the other side but not if you do something stupid. Just get out for now. Get out or Grindelwald wins."

"I'm not going to let them just trash the school," Harry frowned.

"Correct," Priya said. "By not giving them a reason to. They'll know Hermione warned you anyway, don't let her sacrifice go in vain."

"I'll cover for you," Neville said. "You left to go somewhere a few days ago and never returned."

"I'm not going to run," Harry said. Both Hermione and Priya groaned almost in unison.

"Then you'll lose," Emily said dryly. Harry paused and looked at her.

"I can take them," Harry shrugged.

"Winning the fight loses the war. It makes you exactly what Fudge said you were," Emily said. Harry frowned deeper and stared hard at her. But after a moment he sighed.

"Fine. It will probably blow over in a couple of days anyway. Get as much of that to Hermione as you can," he said, gesturing to the papers on the table. Neville nodded and started gathering them up.

"Will do. I'll hide them for now and get to my room. Less conspicuous if I'm not in your chambers. Probably even better if I meet them at the gates or something," Neville argued.

"Good luck," Harry nodded.

"They're almost to the castle," Emily said. Priya shifted closer to him, her body pressing back up to his body. He slid an arm instinctively around her.

"Go," Priya said. Harry nodded at her. He looked more annoyed than anything. Like he didn't understand why they insisted on this. But that he knew better than to argue with his fiance. Emily felt the magic swirl into the room as Harry prepared an exit. She almost didn't notice as Priya reached out and wrapped her hand around her wrist as Harry apparated them all away from the castle.

Author's note: Thanks as always for reading and reviewing. I do appreciate all the support I get. If you wish to support me further I can be found on PAT RE ON at TE7writes. There are two additional chapters of this story available there as well as the first six chapters of my next Harry/Daphne story.