Nothing is mine.

Happy reading!

A Man Sees in the World What He Carries in His Heart

Bella skipped through the heaps of leaves; she circled along the tower wall, patting her hand against the stones. Harry watched her go, slicing his tarte aux cerises into neat squares with the side of his fork.

Beside the small, chipped plate, brilliant amber motes swirled in the mask upon Harry's lap.

'What are you eating?' Bella bounced across. 'Cake?'

'Cherry tart,' Harry said, forcing a mouthful down. A bittersweet pain twisted in his heart as the taste of the fruit melted on his tongue. 'There was still some left in the cupboard. I'd never be forgiven if I wasted cake and I have to eat something, so...'

It's meant to hurt. He let the bittersweet pang rip deep and stabbed a cherry-laden piece of tart. You deserve it.

Bella prodded him in the cheek. 'All your face is still there!'

'Yes.' He swallowed. 'I know.'

'Then why are you wearing the shiny mask!?' She bounced on her toes, gazing down into the swirling flickering gold. 'Is it part of the game?'

'Because it's who I turned out to be and I deserve it.'

Bella's violet eyes shone like stars as she scrunched her nose up at the tart. 'What is it? Cherries?'

'And almonds,' Harry murmured.

The world sank into the silver tines of the fork, swirling down into the burning rays of golden light whirling in the amber mask; Harry let it go.

'Can we have some?' Bella asked. 'We're family! Like sisters. And sisters are meant to share!'

A bitter flash of humour tugged at the corner of his mouth. 'You have it, Bella. But don't waste it.'

'I won't!' She grabbed the plate and snatched the fork from his fingers, stabbing a piece and sticking it in her mouth. 'It's good!'

'There wasn't much chance of any bad cake ending up in that cupboard,' Harry whispered. 'When you're finished, I think we'll go to Nurmengard. I don't want to wait.'

No more waiting. No more wishing. The small sad little smile spread its arms in the empty place beneath his heart, drawing him down into its hollow melancholic embrace. No more hoping.

'We're going to go and play!?' Bella jammed forkfuls of cake into her mouth, chomping away and showering crumbs down the front of her black dress.

'Maybe. I think I can convince him that my way is better. But if I can't…'

She swallowed and tossed the plate and fork over her shoulder into the leaves. 'We beat them! We beat them all together!'

'No,' Harry murmured. 'Not if we can help it. There's no point killing them for nothing. Dreams shouldn't just disappear.' He picked up the amber mask. 'There's no point in winning if it doesn't mean anything anymore.'

'But it's a game.' Bella scrunched up her face. 'Winning is the point of games! And it's all games!'

He rolled his eyes and placed the mask over his face. 'The game is the ritual, Bella. If we beat them before it's finished and cast, then they aren't dying for it.'

'Ohhhhh.' She huffed. 'They don't count yet.' Bella flapped her arms. 'But! But! When it is finished and cast, then we can play with them and beat them?'

'If they aren't fighting for the chance for everyone to dream, then they die for despairing and trying to turn it all to dust.' Harry stood up from the window ledge and held out his hand. 'Ready, Bella?'

She grabbed his hand. 'Ready to play, Mithras!'

Another stupid name, but what does it matter?

He pictured Nurmengard's hall and spun the world back past him, stepping out between the long benches with a soft snap.

Two pairs of pale blue eyes stared back from beneath blonde, braided hair and a fierce pang of loss knifed through Harry's chest.

You deserve it. He dragged his eyes away from the Greengrass sisters and their white and gold robes. You ruined everything.

Grindelwald gazed out the tall window at the far end of the hall, his hands clasped behind his back. Chasca and Enni hovered in the shadows of the hall, tense and wary, and Charlie Weasley rose from the long table, drawing his wand.

'It's the mysterious Mithras in his shiny magical mask!' Astoria waved. 'Hi! I'm—'

'I know who you are,' Harry said. 'And your sister.'

'Oh?' She snickered. 'Were you a young duellist once upon a time? Or did Les Inconnus tell you all about us?'

'I came here to speak to Grindelwald,' he said. 'Not his pawns.'

'Speak, then.' Grindelwald turned from the window and straightened the collar of his long grey jacket; the snow drifted down behind him from grey clouds. 'There are no pawns here, only brothers and sisters orphaned in a suffocating world. They expect no speeches or great exhortations, but intelligence and proper sense require little embellishment to be expressed.'

'I don't trust them. Either I don't know them…' Harry pointed at Chasca and Enni. 'Or—' he glanced at the others '—I do.'

A small frown furrowed Grindelwald's brow.

Astoria grinned. 'Not fond of ice cream, Mithras?' She poked her sister in the hip. 'That voice ringing any bells, Daph?'

Daphne shook her head, her cool blue eyes sweeping over Harry. 'The voice is faintly familiar, but there are ways to disguise and change voices. Both Les Inconnus and the Unspeakables do it.'

'Come with me.' Grindelwald drifted down the steps from the raised dais toward the small side-door. 'Meine Walküren will remain here.'

'Okay!' Bella flopped onto the bench.

Harry followed him through, closing the door behind him.

Grindelwald paused, one foot on the plain stone step of the stairs. 'I confess to wondering what brings you here, to this place few uninvited visitors dare tread. Is it confidence that puts strength into those steps? Arrogance? I sense no dread.'

'Does it matter?'

'Our lives are spent in pursuit of those worldly desires we find ourselves unable to ignore, and what do we desire so strongly from the world but that which feeds the quiet flame burning in our hearts.' He made his way up the stone steps, spiralling past door after door in slow careful steps. 'From our better moments to our worst, what can we envision for the world beyond what dwells within our breast? To take the measure of a man is but to put that rhythm to the test.'

Harry listened to the quiet scrape of Grindelwald's boots as he took each stone step. 'What would you say to a man who has nothing left to pursue?'

'For any man truly divorced of dreams and troubles both, it cannot matter what he and his becomes.' Grindelwald paused upon the last step. 'But why would such a man come bargaining, if there is naught still for him to desire? Words alone are noise and smoke; his actions suggest but another liar.'

'Are the hopes of others not motive enough? When all our own dreams are dust, isn't it better to fight for their hope?'

'To me, it seems that man has much left to pursue.' Grindelwald's fingers lingered on the latch. 'Perhaps a man, whose own dreams have fallen by the wayside, seeks something of equal weight to worship in its stead?'

Harry turned the words over in his head. 'Not to worship, to… commemorate? I don't know if there's a word for the feeling. It was a beautiful dream,' he whispered. 'And it shouldn't disappear for nothing.'

When you sacrifice something, it should be for something of equal value.

Grindelwald opened the door. 'What can we do, when our sight has failed, but strive to accomplish the vision of our dearest friends?' A small sad smile crept across his face as he gestured for Harry to enter. 'In youth, I was drawn only to ignoble leisure, but now I find myself too old to live for selfish pleasure. To all of us, it comes, I think. With growing age, I met many people of differing kind, but never have I truly felt that in each others' places we might have met any other way inclined.'

'Maybe,' Harry murmured, stepping into the empty turret. 'I used to think I had to be different from all the rest, but now, I find we all seem one of a kind in how we chase our dreams at any price.'

Grindelwald raised his open hand, dipping the other into the inner pocket of his jacket and drawing out his long thin wand. 'Unfortunately, during my incarceration, my captors stripped Nurmengard bare, so there is little to admire.' He conjured a pair of simple armchairs. 'In my youth, or perhaps its fading years, I and my dearest friend would often sit and talk like this.'

'Dumbledore…' Harry took a seat, sinking into the soft chair. 'It's strange to know that all those who praised him a hero and denounced you the villain were always admiring the fruits of both your work.'

'If only the fruits had been as sweet as envisioned,' Grindelwald replied, descending opposite him. 'But come, what of this great bargain you seek to offer me, what are the terms to which I must agree?'

'I want to offer you a better way,' Harry said. 'You want to save the magical world from destruction, right? You don't believe our worlds can coexist.'

'I believe there can be no peaceful coexistence between those with power and those without when that gulf has grown too great.' Grindelwald tucked his wand back into his grey jacket. 'Often, those who rail against the veil of safety the Statute of Secrecy is presented to be, decry it as some well-intentioned palisade built to keep us apart from the other, the alien muggle who is barely better than a beast, and claim that is has but gone awry. Cattle, they have often dubbed our non-magical cousins. Indeed, Mithras, the name you bear is rooted in that very representation.' He tucked his thumb through the silver buttons of his deep burgundy waistcoat, tapping his fingertips upon the hem of his jacket. 'But the truth is that they are just the same as we. When my magical brothers and sisters see my approach, it is with fear they greet me. They know that it is within my power to do them great evil and who would not dread that possibility just a little? For some, the chance feels too great, an unendurable eventuality, and so they seek to do me harm before I might choose to visit it upon them. The muggle world sees our world in that very same way.'

'Dumbledore said he wasn't sure if you were right,' Harry said. 'He hoped that if we could demonstrate our kindness to each other, manage our worse nature and encourage our better, we could overcome the pain the actions of the few would cause.'

'Albus was ever bright of heart,' Grindelwald murmured. 'But in the end, even after all those years of setting an example and seeking to show others what a little empathy might lead to, his wish fell on deaf ears. The same old struggle arose once more.'

'If that fear can't be overcome, then one of the two sides must be absolutely defeated, or, at best, the conflict to preserve the Statute will last forever and its crucible will always create many more terrible people to spread suffering,' Harry said. 'That's what you believe?'

'Crucible. A good name for it. Yes, in a word. We cannot escape our nature, only follow in its yoke; it is them, or it us. And I find, of these two worlds, magic makes ours to be the greater. And even so, it is our right to fight for our own world, is it not?'

'What if we didn't have to fight to do it?' Harry asked. 'What if, instead of wiping them all away and destroying all those dreams, we could give them a chance to dream instead?'

Grindelwald's sharp blue eyes narrowed. 'Do you mean to say that you believe there is a way to close the gulf?' A faint sombre smile flitted across his lips. 'You are not the first to propose such a thing. The absolute horror of the evil we must work sends even the most pitiless creature among us seeking alternative solutions. If it is our power they fear, why not take away the reason for their fear? But who has the heart to rob a world of its magic?' He shook his head. 'I considered the other path myself, for what a noble thing it seemed to Albus and I. But, for all our understanding of magic, and few, I hope, would find the pair of us lacking, we could not find a way.'

'The only limits magic has are those we impose on ourselves,' Harry said.

'If I disagreed, my heart would know it for a lie.' Grindelwald folded his hands in his lap. 'But if there is a way to reach out and give magic to such a multitude of muggles, I cannot conceive of it. And I fear there is not the time left for our world to wait for another, more worthy witch or wizard to lift the burden from my shoulders and accomplish this in my stead.'

'I have a way.'

'Lay it before me,' he said. 'Let me measure the worth of it.'

'If you can find no flaws, will you aid me?'

'Without hesitation or regret.' Grindelwald's hand crept to the breast pocket of his waistcoat. 'Or, perhaps, with the endless regret of many many names lost to an unnecessary evil after all.'

Harry dipped a hand into his pocket and drew out the glass marble. Tiny purple runes swirled at its heart like a whirling galaxy of stars.

'A most curious and unique use of magic,' Grindelwald said. 'I have seen its like before.'

'All that matters is whether it works.'

'Just so.'

'I took and adapted a couple of parts of it from Voldemort, who knew this kind of magic too. He wished to use it to end the muggle world as you would have us believe is necessary, but most of it is my own work.' Harry slid his wand from his sleeve and unshrunk the orb, vanishing the glass and flicking the glowing violet glyphs up above them. 'One person cannot change the world alone, but if enough people want to change it, then it can be changed.'

Grindelwald studied the runes with a deep frown. 'There is a price to every spell, no matter how small, and this is no trifling charm you seek to cast.'

'That's how it works,' Harry murmured. 'There's always a price. But we're sacrificing all our dreams anyway; surely it's better we spend them for something that might work than lose them for nothing at all.'

'May I?' Grindelwald drew his long thin wand. 'I will not tamper, I merely wish to study certain parts more closely. The last ritual you gave me, I investigated to the last rune, but this one far outstrips it.'

'Please do,' Harry said.

Grindelwald stood, bending the rune patterns aside and combing through them one by one, a strange sharp gleam in his blue eyes. 'This must have taken some time and dedication to create.'

'Days of thought and trial and study.' Harry smothered a stab of loss. 'Days I wish I had spent very differently.'

But how was I to know those days were all we had left? Keeping our promises was meant to make it perfect again.

'All I've seen so far seems to work as I understand this form of magic does.' Grindelwald studied a dense cluster of complex rune-stars. 'This part… this part is most interesting.'

'I took that part from Voldemort,' Harry said. 'Nearly all the rest is mine, but I couldn't find a way to use the magic and sacrifices of others to cast a ritual without them knowing and understanding that it was specifically what they were trying to accomplish. He had a Dark Mark. You took it, swearing a carefully worded magical vow to serve his purpose, and the moment he cast his version of that ritual, everything they did at his command or for his purpose would have then powered his magic.'

'A clever way to take the strength of others for his own,' Grindelwald said. 'But your adaptation of it… is incomplete.'

'It is,' Harry replied. 'If it wasn't, I wouldn't need you. I would have come here not to work with you, but…'

'To let us sacrifice everything for a better world,' Grindelwald murmured. 'Such a neat solution in concept, for everyone to change the world together, but with one tiny piece missing. How can everyone change the world if they don't know they're doing it?'

'It must be possible,' Harry said. 'How many times has the world been changed by many people who were unaware of anything but what they wanted at the time?'

'This… collective soul, this shared sense of purpose we will draw on,' Grindelwald said, 'can it truly function as a magical oath would?'

'Soul magic is tricky abstract stuff, but I believe so. If the conscious intention of an action is the same as that which contributes to the ritual, then the magic can be used so long as the ritual knows to draw upon it. But magic that can draw upon the magic of others like that, I have only ever seen used by you.' Harry stared up at the small gap in the swirling runes. 'That which issues from the heart alone…'

'Shall bend the hearts of others to your own.' A small sad smile curved Grindelwald's lips.

'Can you do it?' The storm stirred, a murmur of burning yearning deep in Harry's heart. 'Can you finish the last part?'

'It seems I spoke too soon,' Grindelwald replied. 'Together we will work wonders after all, Henri Dufort. Or do you prefer Mithras, now?'

Harry pressed his fingertips against the warm amber mask covering his face. 'Names and faces, they don't matter. All that matters is who you are, your purpose. Call me what you want, I don't care.'

'Perhaps, Bellatrix Lestrange has named you more aptly than she herself understands,' Grindelwald said. 'Henri Dufort is dead and gone as far as all the world knows, and the man that stands before me strives to do all that those stories promised Mithras would.' He tucked his wand away and sank back into his chair. 'The only flaw I can find, for yes, I do believe I can provide a solution to the last piece of this problem, is whether we can ever truly power it. Intuition tells me that, as you say, if enough people wish to change the world, it will be changed, and yet… I hear the hopeful words, but no longer believe.' Grindelwald slid his hand through the buttons of his waistcoat. 'But that does not matter. You came to offer me a bargain, here are the terms I will accept. This ritual, I can finish for you, an oath to do so I will give.'

'And in return?' Harry asked. 'Name your price.'

It doesn't matter what the price is, not anymore.

'Once this is cast, its price must be paid before its magicks are cast,' Grindelwald said. 'We could leave it, we could wait for the years to slip by and hope that after we died the threshold would be reached and the muggles enchanted with this magic. But it might fail. And then what will become of our world when the two inevitably collide?' He shook his head. 'That is a risk I will not take. So these are my terms, Mithras; I will continue my plan in parallel, with you sworn to see it through until this ritual of yours activates. For all our brothers and sisters who will fight for and against us, their sacrifices will feed this piece of magic you have created.'

'Done.' Harry drew his wand and held out his arm. 'Do you, Gellert Grindelwald, agree to finish and cast this ritual to the absolute best of your ability?'

'I do.'

A slim ribbon of white fire snaked out, looping around Grindelwald's wrist.

Grindelwald drew his wand. 'Do you… Mithras, swear to fight for my cause until your ritual is successfully cast?'

'I do.'

A bright tendril of pearly flame snared Harry's wrist, snapping tight. A flash of cold tore through him and all the hairs prickled down his spine.

'Our bargain is struck.' Grindelwald glanced at the runes. 'I should keep this in my former cell; it is safest there, where none can enter without my magic or the aid of a phoenix.'

Harry swept the runes back down into a small glass orb and dropped it into Grindelwald's hand. 'This name Bella gave me, what does it mean?'

'You do not know?' Grindelwald asked. 'It is a story held dear by many pure-blooded and ancient families of European descent. The Cult of Mithras held great sway as Rome crumbled. Once the muggles lost faith in magic being of the divine, they began to hate and fear those who wielded power they could not affect. Roman magicals withdrew into hiding to avoid persecution and strife, for, when dangerous magical areas caused too much unrest among muggles, the Romans would often conceal them from the muggles to ease their worries.' Grindelwald slid his wand back into his jacket pocket. 'The Cult of Mithras arose from muggles who clung to their pagan mysteries and magicks, still interacting with the magical world before the separation of worlds became absolutely distinct some two centuries later. Its centre was Rome, of course, and they claimed that the great scrolls of prophecy once kept in a shrine beneath the city foretold the triumph of the magical over the muggle. This belief took hold. I have heard it said that the story of Mithras was itself the prophecy written upon those scrolls and also that it was merely the founding myth of that cult's faith. Muggles were and are often represented as cattle, and the victory of Mithras over the bull and its subsequent sacrifice to Sol Invictus depicted our victory over the muggle world and the return of the magical world to the light from the shadow of secrecy.'

'I don't much like prophecies,' Harry muttered.

Two for the flames. He swallowed a sickening wrench of pain. You deserve it. You did it. You ruined it all.

'Prophecies are delicate, dangerous things,' Grindelwald said. 'All that they describe in riddles already exists, and if one is seeking to solve some problem, those details should be part of the solution long before any cryptic clue.' He raised the glass orb of swirling purple runes. 'May I offer a small suggestion for this ritual?'

'Of course.'

'Do not target every muggle child born from the moment the ritual is cast. The magical world struggles with the influx of muggleborns already and if we collapse our world into anarchy in the saving of it, then we have accomplished little in the end.' He ran a hand through his short, cropped silver hair. 'Better to make it the firstborn child from each family. Enough that over the years, the effect will be the same, but a more manageable transition for the ICW to one day oversee.'

Harry nodded. 'It makes sense.'

'I will create the alchemical snare and complete this idea of a collective soul that draws all magic cast for the same purpose into one. I believe it can be done.'

'When you're finished, we should cast it right away,' Harry said. 'And do nothing about the ongoing war you're waging until we have.'

A small frown furrowed Grindelwald's brow. 'Very well, but if this alchemy problem proves difficult to solve, I cannot leave things so delicately poised across so many fronts for long. Those who oppose us are not helpless children; given time, they will grow into a greater threat.'

'I understand.'

I'm going to do it. A soft sense of satisfaction settled on Harry's heart. Our dream might be gone, but soon there'll be no crucible to snatch the dreams of other little girls away.

'Au revoir,' he murmured. 'Send Bella for me when you're finished, she knows how to find me now.'

Grindelwald nodded. 'Very well. Auf Wiedersehen, Mithras.'

Harry pictured the white pebbles and the river, spinning the world back past him and stepping out before the Mirror of Erised.

A single soft shadow swirled in shining silver beneath a bright, brilliant sun; it shimmered like heat haze, faint as summer shade, glimmering like the flash of gold beneath the ripples of the river.

The river. Fleur's ring. The storm stirred, a whisper of yearning whirling around the crimson-threaded wedding band. The last piece of us left…

Harry twisted away from the Mirror of Erised and apparated past the warped, ruined silver pensieve, crouching down on the cold white pebbles. 'I saw it stuck here,' he whispered, staring into the rippling waters. 'I saw it. It can't have—' the storm snatched the words off the tip of his tongue in a searing swell of need.

It can't have just disappeared.

'Accio,' Harry murmured, holding out his hand.

A cool drop of rain burst on his empty palm.

He slid his wand from his sleeve. 'Accio.'

More cold drops splashed on his skin, drumming down upon the stones and sending countless rings of ripples spreading across the surface of the water.

It's gone. Washed away. He let his hand fall, let his heart sink back into the still calm embrace of despair at the eye of the storm. You don't deserve to have it. You ruined everything.

AN: You know this bit. Follow the linktree to find the rest!

linktr . ee / mjbradley