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Acknowledgements: Thank you to my editor, Athena Hope, as well as my betas: 3CP, DarknessEnthronedMJ Bradley, Luq707, Regress, Thanos, and Thobeobo for their contributions.
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Chapter 50: One Last Surprise
Setting sunlight washed the property, stripped as it was of greenery and trees. Acres of grass were coloured burnished gold amid the sea of shadows swallowing the nearby city and the surrounding countryside. The missing trees and lack of their dark shelter were the only signs of the damage he had wrought. The earth he had torn up had since been restored, the crumbled masonry of the manor's outer wall repaired.
Harry paused before the tall man in his black satin. In the final vibrant thralls of sun, the Emperor's slicked hair shone the same sleek gold as the long cape hanging from his broad shoulders. "Your Highness."
"I am sorry to have taken you from the day's festivities," said Grindelwald, crisp and smooth as polished glass beneath a winter sun.
Harry quelled the flash of anger that threatened his expression. "I won't pretend I was excited by the idea." Rising from his bow, he looked the Emperor up and down. "I'm guessing this is important though, seeing how far you must have travelled."
"I am glad you appreciate the investment of my time and guess what it must mean."
"Is it Riddle?" Harry asked, taut as any bowstring. "Have you found him, or received intel?"
"No," Grindelwald admitted. "Not in the manner you suggest, at least."
The first shadows streamed over the surrounding grass as the sun flirted with the hilltop on which Hangleston Estate rested. "What is it, then?" Harry asked, unable to match the man's unyielding patience and unwilling to abide the uneasy silence left in its grim wake.
"That depends upon decisions I have not yet made." The man's blue eyes were so like Dumbledore's, yet so very different. Both were deep and bright, both as piercing as a surgeon's scalpel. The difference was in the aura they projected — one the tranquil calm of summer skies, one the uneasy chill of brittle ice. "I believe it was a misunderstanding that saw you return home from Bucharest."
"Misunderstanding?" Harry asked, choking back a derisive snort. "If that's what you call a misunderstanding, I'd hate to see your definition of a disagreement."
There was no change in Grindelwald's expression, a mask of ivory beneath the chips of ice he called eyes. "I see you're not one for delicacy where fragile subjects are concerned."
"I've never really seen the point," Harry confessed. "It just wastes time and gives me a headache."
"Very well. Let us speak plainly, though remember who it is you're speaking to. I am not Albus. What he may call witty and amusing will not ingratiate yourself to me."
Harry inclined his head. The last handful of hours had left him feeling far too comfortable. "I understand, Your Highness."
"Good." Wind blew through the grass. What should have been a light breeze turned into a brief gust across that flat, unguarded plain, streaming that gold cape out behind the man who wore it. "You have left the empire in a difficult position, Mister Kalloway. Are you aware of that?"
"In a difficult position?" Harry asked, feeling tension settle in his shoulders. "How so?"
"You have carved out a reputation for yourself, beginning that night in Paris and expanding ever since. There are rumours. Some say Bouclier d'or is the emperors come again, the culmination of years spent honing sorcerers with rougher whetstones than have been used in ages past. They say you sleigh dragons with an upraised hand, that you breathed life into a city and bent every stone to your command."
"What?" It took all the restraint he had to avoid laughing. "That's not even possible."
"Plausibility does not enter into the discussion. What is important is that the people have begun talking. Your reputation is useful in some aspects, yet here it is most troubling."
"Because word's got out that I walked off?" Harry guessed, almost certain he was right.
Grindelwald inclined his head. "The rumours about your departure are as wild as those singing your praises. Some think you killed Vadim Krum and went rogue."
"Oh come on," Harry said, unable to resist his incredulity. "Anyone with a brain knows that isn't true."
"Conflict is a primal thing. Many men do not pause to think while in its thralls, and many more look for excuses that might draw them into the fray." Their gazes locked. "Do you see the trouble?"
"Yes," Harry conceded. "The rumours are just going to spread dissension."
"Dissension and false confidence," Grindelwald corrected. "Men will whisper that if one so deep into the order's circle can just simply walk away, there might yet be hope for their revolts — maybe even that they have a figure whom they might rally around."
Harry shifted, taking a small step to his left. "That last part's not really a concern. It's a bit hard to rally around me if I don't play along with them."
The wind blew once again, stirring the Emperor's gold cape and black robes. With them swirling and his hair swept back, he could have passed for the likeness of a Greek god painted on a temple wall. "Indeed."
A shock of tension shot through Harry's limbs. "You can't seriously believe I'd entertain the idea."
"Can't I?" Grindelwald blinked, evoking the aura of a bird of prey. "Tell me why that is. Knowing would ease my own internal conflicts, as I personally find it difficult to guess what I can and can't believe."
"I'm not going to turn my back on the order while it might still help me track down Riddle." There was no use parading patriotism that was not in him; not to Grindelwald, who spoke of primal instincts and guided kingdoms with an iron hand.
"And what of after?" the Emperor inquired. "What happens if Tom Riddle is tracked down and killed, yet the conflicts continue?"
"I have no reason to turn rebel," Harry said. "The world is run smoothly, it's never done me any special harm, and one of my best friends has family in the ruling class. Not to mention the fact it would be suicide. What would I gain, Highness, trying to tear down the empire? What would my motive be?"
"What was your motive for breaching the Department of Mysteries?"
Harry froze. The breath drained out of his lungs. Cold ice trickled into his legs. "What did you just say?"
"Do not play the fool." Grindelwald did not raise his voice. It somehow made the command fiercer. "We know the British ministry was breached, we know the path the invader took, and we know you were responsible."
How was that possible? The only person he had allowed to glimpse his face was poor Saul Croaker, whom he had killed before the aurors came. No one else had got close enough and no wards had gleaned his identity.
Was Grindelwald lying?
No. It was too specific, and there was no reason for the emperor to lie. If Grindelwald wanted him locked up or killed, he would have had it done. Ultimate power was at his disposal. Not a soul need ever have found out, and none would have objected.
Except perhaps for one — though he doubted Grindelwald would go behind Dumbledore's back over something such as this.
"You don't know already?" Harry asked, cocking his head to one side. Adrenaline was pumping through him, his eyes watching the Emperor for any sign of sudden movement, his hand poised to draw the Elder Wand.
"Plain speech it is, then." It was less a man that spoke to him than it was a machine, or so he might have guessed. "Why go through so much trouble to steal back the scythe, and how did you find it in the first place?"
"If I understood an artifact like that, I doubt I'd have any interest in risking so much for it," Harry said, having anticipated the line of inquiry. "Hypothetically, of course."
"If you had pursued such an artifact out of simple curiosity, you would have had time enough to have sated it by now." Grindelwald leant forward, almost imperceptibly. "If mere curiosity drove a man to thievery, there would be no reason for him not to return what it was he stole once his urge was satisfied." Harry swore the corner of the man's mouth twitched. "Hypothetically, of course."
"Naturally," Harry responded, his mind on overdrive.
"Enough of this." Grindelwald made a dismissive gesture with his right hand. "Let us return to frankness. I do not like things I don't understand."
Harry's heart hammered in his chest. "So you think that I'm your enemy?"
"I don't know what to think, which is far more unsettling for one who is accustomed to being certain at all times. You came from nowhere and thus have no ties. Your only clear motivations centre around a man you know far too much about, and your talents exceed anything that should be possible from a boy your age. Given all of that, I cannot help but doubt when presented with proof of dubious behaviour." Harry remained quiet, sensing any interruption would be folly. "Tell me this much, Harry Kalloway. Why did you leave Bucharest, and what is it you wish for most? And do not tell me tales of vengeance against Tom Riddle."
"I left because I won't have my name tied to what Krum did," Harry answered, precise and prompt out of fear that hesitation would not be well received. "It was a war crime, and an unnecessary one. It was immoral, and it was idiotic. It made me sick, and I'll bet hundreds in that square felt the same way. Punishing the many for the crimes of the few only leads to bloodshed. Tyrants have made that mistake for centuries. I wasn't going to stand by and watch Krum add his name to that list."
There was no telling what the Emperor thought of that response. "And your own ambitions?"
Harry was forced to pause this time. That was far more difficult. There had only ever been Voldemort for him, and then Tom Riddle here. His life had never presented him an opportunity to think further ahead.
Yet he could not tell Gellert Grindelwald he sought to slaughter Riddle, then use the very artifact he had commandeered to return home to a different world and continue fighting.
Of all the things, the fierce argument between him and Narcissa drifted to the forefront of his thoughts.
"All I've known is conflict," he had told her. "I feel more comfortable when you scream at me than when you stand and stare. I feel more comfortable fighting Riddle in the streets of Paris than I do in a room full of strangers."
"Peace," he answered, speaking the only word he could think of that might encapsulate some small portion of his spinning thoughts. "Peace for the empire, peace for my friends, and peace for me. I'd like to know what it's like to live my own life and not be so caught up in conflict all the time. I'd like to live, I guess is what it comes down to."
"I see." Had it been the wrong answer? It was so hard to tell with Grindelwald. "And I understand that peace will not be possible for you so long as Riddle lives?"
Harry bowed his head, Trelawney's words resounding through him.
"Either must die at the hand of the other for neither can live while the other survives."
"Yes, Highness."
"And yet I do not get the impression you have any interest in returning to the field?"
Harry set his jaw. "Not if I'm working alongside men like Krum, or if I'm expected to standby and witness crowds of people being murdered for no reason."
"I cannot make promises about how lesser men might act," Grindelwald told him. "If I could, you would have my assurances and be back out on the field, for the shortest path to stamping out Tom Riddle's evil is the one that leads to unity. Instead let me offer you one last birthday surprise and the opportunity that comes with it." Harry waited, drawn in as if he were dressed in metallic armour and standing near a giant magnet. "You have heard about the turmoil raging inside Spain's borders?"
"Yes, Highness," Harry replied. "Last I heard, an entire squadron of venators had gone missing there."
"Matters have not improved in the time since the tragedy you mention. The country has united under a single ruler and captured land in Portugal."
"What?" Harry's eyes had widened. "You mean… they're openly rebelling? The entire country?"
"I'm sure many citizens dislike the current course and are holding themselves separate, but for all intents and purposes that is correct. They are at least united enough to pursue alliances with Italy, if recent reports are to be believed."
"Italy…" Voldemort had sought Italy early in the war. It had been among his costliest conquests.
"Old magic," Grindelwald said, as if reading his mind. "Rome alone would be a boon we cannot allow our enemies to gain."
Harry felt his heart begin to sink. "And you want me to stop it?"
"I have told you, all I can do is present you information and an opportunity." A spark danced in those icy eyes, the first snowflake of a winter storm. "Information such as that we believe Tom Riddle's agents are behind the recent talks between Spain and Italy."
A special thank you to my high-tier patron, Cup, for her generous and unwavering support.
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