Chapter 35
With the students preparing to take their exams in the coming weeks, Albus found himself equally busy scheduling them. Of course, the fifth and seventh years would be sitting their OWLs and NEWTs, respectively, but every other year group would also be sitting theirs the same week.
Logistically, it wasn't the easiest of things to arrange.
He knew that each of the professors liked to be present in the Great Hall for the practical portion of the fifth and seventh years, but they also needed to cater to the rest of the students to ensure they were assessed.
It could often be headache-inducing for the Headmaster, and more often than not, one or two members of staff would not be able to do both.
Shaking his head, Albus placed his quill on his desk, needing a reprieve from the irksome task.
"Come in, Harry," he called as a knock sounded at the door to the office.
The man entered, a deep frown creasing his brow.
"Professor," he greeted Albus as he took the seat opposite him.
"Is something wrong?" Albus asked.
"Nothing out of the ordinary," Harry sighed, "but I need your assistance with something."
Albus nodded.
"If I can help you with anything, I will."
"I need to speak with Grindelwald."
Albus choked in response.
Of all the things he may have expected to be asked for, an audience with Gellert would not have crossed his mind.
How Harry even knew the man was still alive was baffling in itself, but Albus had learned long ago that he had a knack for knowing things that others didn't.
"Might I ask why?"
Harry nodded as he removed a small piece of parchment and slid it across the desk.
Unfolding it, Albus's heart sunk at the sight of the symbol that had haunted him for much of his life, and he looked curiously at his Defence Against the Dark Arts professor.
Before he could speak, however, Harry did so, only making the scenario he found himself in all the stranger.
"I have no interest in the Hallows," he said dismissively. "This symbol was drawn by Marcin Broz in connection with an ongoing investigation. I'm sure you remember him."
Albus nodded.
He wasn't surprised that Harry knew of the Hallows, even if he was surprised that he had no interest in them. Not that he would question the man on them. The headmaster did not wish to draw any unnecessary attention to them if he didn't need to.
Broz was an unpleasant man and had been linked to several underhand dealings within the ICW and as the Minister of Magic for Poland. He'd left the office disgraced and had faded into obscurity.
"Is this your investigation into what happened to the former Lord and Lady Bones?"
"It is," Harry confirmed. "I spoke with Broz in connection with it, and he warned me that it goes much deeper than I could comprehend. He couldn't tell me much else but has urged me to speak with Grindelwald about it."
"Gellert was imprisoned long before the murders," Albus pointed out.
"I know, but he is the only lead I have."
Albus deflated as he shook his head.
"I do not think he would be as accommodating as you'd hope, Harry," he sighed. "Gellert is…"
"A stubborn pain in the arse?"
Albus chuckled at the crude assessment of his old friend.
"Indeed," he confirmed. "I'm not sure what you hope to learn from him…"
"I'm not sure either, but Broz insisted I speak with him, and there's another matter I wish to discuss with him."
"Another matter?"
"The Serpent."
Albus frowned curiously and shook his head.
"To most, even us who are representatives of the ICW, The Serpent is little more than a myth. We never saw him in person, but his presence was certainly felt around the continent during Gellert's uprising. Most believe The Serpent was nothing more than a rumour perpetuated by the Hit-Wizards to strike fear into Gellert and any other who would follow him. He vanished before the war was done, and nothing has been heard from him since."
"Ghost confirmed he existed," Harry explained.
Albus nodded thoughtfully.
"It is not that I don't believe he existed, but more that his existence was exaggerated. He was never mentioned officially other than for the fugitives he apprehended. When the attack on the ICW headquarters happened, no mention of him was ever made, very much the same as none of the Hit-Wizards killed by Gellert and his followers were. They operate in anonymity, Harry. You will find nothing pertaining to him, not officially. Not even Ghost will be able to tell you much if anything."
"Broz mentioned him," Harry explained, taking Albus aback.
"He did?"
"He said that not even the Serpent could put an end to whatever entity is responsible for what happened to Amelia's parents."
Albus hummed as he leaned back in his chair, confused by what he'd heard and just as curious as Harry.
"I do not know what good it will do, but I can take you to Gellert. I would not expect him to be forthcoming," he warned.
Harry nodded.
"I have a feeling he will talk to me," he replied. "Broz did, and Grindelwald won't be any different."
Albus released a deep sigh.
"Harry, I cannot allow you to harm him…"
"I have no intention to," Harry assured him. "I think him just seeing me will prompt him."
Albus quirked an eyebrow at the young man.
"Then I see no reason to delay the journey," he declared. "I could use a reprieve from the administrative work that plagues me."
"Being the headmaster is more than eating sherbet lemons? Who would've known," Harry snorted.
Albus chuckled amusedly as he stood, though his mood dropped considerably at the many possibilities that crossed his mind in the coming moments.
Gellert could be difficult at the best of times, and certainly more so towards strangers.
Harry should certainly not get his hopes up that he would get what he was venturing to Nurmengard for.
(Break)
He had long given up counting how many days, weeks, months, and years he had been here. Doing so only served to remind him of his failure, that all he'd worked for over the course of his life had been scuppered by a man he'd once considered to be his friend.
More so, he'd considered Albus his confidant, his comrade-in-arms, though he no longer dared to think of him as being any more than that.
The man had betrayed him, had abandoned him when Gellert had needed him most, and eventually, had been the one to bring his efforts crashing down around him.
Gellert was no longer bitter about it.
All was fair in love and war, after all, but he would not deny that he continued to envision the world that could have been had he emerged victorious.
The witches and wizards of the world would stand head and shoulders above their mundane counterparts, where they belonged, and not be forced to hide their existence only to be wiped out by the ever-increasingly dangerous muggles.
One day, the magical would realise their mistake, but by then, it would be too late. Gellert would be dead, and there was none who would dare be what they would need.
It brought a smile to his lips to think of them all flailing and floundering around in panic when the two worlds inevitably collided, and his own kind was not equipped to handle it.
Perhaps he was a little bitter.
Gellert snorted at the thought as he peered out of his small window towards the setting sun.
He suspected he'd only been allowed the view to assist in breaking his spirit, and for the first days here, it had succeeded. Now, however, he enjoyed looking across the fields and the waft of the salty sea air he was permitted to experience.
All in all, although his plans had not come to fruition, Gellert had little to complain about.
He was well-fed, not deprived of his books and comforts, and he'd come to covet the simple things in life.
Nonetheless, he could do without the occasional visits from the man responsible for him being here.
Gellert wanted nothing more than to live his final years in peace, and Albus, as ever, had a way of spoiling that with his mere presence.
"What do you want now?" he sighed as he heard the approaching footsteps.
"Not me," Albus replied. "You have a visitor."
"Finally decided to put me out of my misery?" Gellert chuckled as he turned towards the door, his heart almost stopping in his chest at the sight of the person accompanying the man who'd made his name by Gellert's downfall. "You!" he gasped, narrowing his eyes.
Gellert frowned and shook his head.
No, it wasn't who he believed it to be.
The man he'd thought he'd seen would be older than the one before him many years, but Gellert could not deny that the resemblance was frighteningly uncanny.
"Who are you?" the former Dark Lord demanded to know.
"Harry Jameson."
"Jameson? You don't have another name, do you?"
"That depends," the man responded, and Gellert narrowed his eyes at him.
He even sounded like The Serpent, and Gellert found it to be rather disconcerting.
The Serpent.
He'd been little more than a whisper on the wind until he no longer was, and he'd swept across the continent like a brief but ferocious hurricane, leaving his mark on the war before he'd vanished, something Gellert had been relieved by, well, until his later years.
If he and the Serpent had met on the battlefield, the man would not have spared his life to see him suffer for decades in solitude.
No, Gellert would have been slaughtered had he not emerged victorious from such an altercation.
"Well, Mr Jameson, what can I do for you?" he asked curiously. "It is not like Albus to bring visitors. He thinks it best that the world forgets that I ever existed."
"We both know that isn't true, Gellert," Albus broke in frustratedly.
Gellert snorted.
"It would've been kinder if you'd had the guts to kill me. You always were weak," he added disappointedly. "What about you, Jameson, are you as skittish about death as our friend here?"
The man shook his head.
"No, but I can't profess to be responsible for the death of thousands," he replied with a shrug.
Gellert chuckled amusedly.
Most would likely be cautious of him at the very least, and many even fearful.
This Jameson seemed to be neither, and he certainly wasn't in awe of him.
Not that Gellert's current condition was likely to inspire such.
He certainly wasn't as imposing as he'd once been. In his later years, his hair had thinned, as had his build. All that remained of the youthful young man was the piercing blue eyes, and even they carried a lingering sense of defeat and wear.
"You're young yet," Gellert replied dismissively. "Now, how may I be of service to you?"
He couldn't help the sarcasm dripping from every word.
Perhaps he was more bitter than he thought.
"I'm investigating a couple of murders, and my findings led me to a Marcin Broz. Is he familiar to you?"
"He might be," Gellert replied.
"Well, he was the one who suggested I speak with you. He seems to think that I have delved into something that runs deeper than anyone can imagine. He couldn't say much, but he made it quite clear that I should speak with you."
Gellert laughed heartily as he nodded.
"I expect he would. Broz always was a coward. I can't believe he's still alive."
"He's clinging on to what remains of his time."
Gellert hummed.
"I can't help you," he decided. "There's nothing in it for me."
"What would you like?" Jameson asked, undeterred by the dismissal.
"You can't give me what I want."
Jameson nodded.
"Albus, I'd like to speak with him alone."
"I do not think that is wise, Harry."
"Oh, shut up, Albus," Gellert huffed. "What harm can I do to him from in here? You've all but magically castrated me. Unless you don't trust him not to free me."
The man looked uneasy before whispering a few words with his companion and looking at Gellert warningly.
"Do behave, Gellert," he sighed sadly, leaving the two of them alone.
When the footsteps had faded Gellert's nostrils flared as he turned back towards Jameson and was once more taken aback by his similarity to the man he once knew, albeit briefly.
"I'm listening, Mr Jameson. Plead your case."
(Break)
"It will be quieter without Quidditch," Imelda pointed out.
"I wouldn't bet on it," Amelia sighed as they entered the atrium to be confronted by a large group of protesters.
The decision to suspend the season was not a popular one, but Amelia agreed with it.
She was a fan, but as an Auror, the matches had become all but impossible to police, and the last had been nothing short of an unmitigated disaster.
With how things were in Britain, it was no longer safe for such large events.
Still, at least the protesters here were being civil.
None of them were wearing masks, nor were they attempting to intimidate the Ministry workers. They simply wanted their voices heard, even if they would fall on deaf ears.
"What do you think Smith wants to meet with us all about?" Imelda asked.
"I don't know, but in all the years I've been here, he's only called one meeting."
"What was that about?"
"The murder of an on-duty Auror around five years ago," Amelia explained.
"Did they find who did it?"
Amelia shook her head.
"No, but his wife was under suspicion before she fled the country. She hasn't been heard from since."
"Why would she kill him on duty?"
"If she killed him at home, it would be much harder for her to deny it."
Imelda nodded her agreement, and the two fell silent as they entered the Department of Magical Law Enforcement, where their colleagues from the day shift were already gathered.
Only a few moments later, a tired Smith entered the room flanked by Head Auror Grimm, who quietened the room with little more than a glare.
"Thank you all for joining me," Smith greeted them with a nod and tight smile. "I won't keep you long, but what I have to say is important. Just this morning, Minister Leach granted us a considerable additional budget to double recruitment to the department over the next three years. It is something much needed, and those funds have already cleared."
It was welcome news, and the other Aurors talked animatedly amongst themselves, eliciting a brighter smile from Smith, who held up his hand.
"Along with this is the announcement that I will be retiring at the end of this year."
The mood within the room shifted immediately, especially with those who had been an Auror long enough to appreciate all the work Smith did for them.
His office was always open to them, and he'd never stopped fighting for the betterment of the department or for those who had needed him over the years.
"I have been pondering this for some time now, and having discussed it with my wife, I have decided that now is the right time for me to step aside so that some new, fresher blood can flow through this place. As far as I am aware, Auror Grimm will be retaining his current position, as per his own wishes, and it will be the Minister's decision on who is to replace me. I will give a more formal accounting of myself before I leave my post, and again, thank you for your time."
He left, and Amelia found herself in a state of shock at the sudden news.
Receiving more funding to boost recruitment truly was welcome, but Smith's impending retirement had undoubtedly soured it.
She'd come to respect the man greatly throughout her time here, as had Alastor, who appeared just as surprised as her.
"Smith leaving is big, I take it," Imelda murmured.
Amelia nodded.
"It is," she sighed. "He's been a part of the department for almost five decades."
"Who do you think will replace him?"
Amelia frowned at the question.
"I have no idea, but they have some huge shoes to fill, whoever it is."
(Break)
Although he was hiding it well, it was almost as though Grindelwald was unnerved by Harry's presence. His gaze continued to flicker across his features before coming to rest on his eyes.
"You know, eyes such as yours are very uncommon, and I do not believe that it is a coincidence that you resemble him so closely and have his eyes."
"The Serpent."
Grindelwald winced at the mention of the moniker before nodding.
"You know of him."
"Little," Harry admitted. "He has been mentioned, but none can seem to tell me much."
"I expect the few who can would be quite unwilling to."
"Are you?"
Grindelwald frowned, took a step back, and turned away to look out the window of his cell. He remained silent for several moments before speaking once more.
"I will discuss it with you and anything else you wish to, but my words are not free, I'm afraid. It is not often I have something someone wishes to possess."
"What do you want?"
"I don't suppose my freedom is possible?" Gellert asked, turning back towards him with an amused grin. "No? I thought not. In that case, I would like you to tell me your story, Harry Jameson. If I am to speak of things that should not be uttered, I must know that you are worthy and that your impending death is something I can revel in for my remaining years. Be truthful!" Grindelwald warned. "My body might be decaying, but my mind is as sharp as ever. I can sense a lie resting on a tongue from the very best."
"My impending death?"
"Broz," Grindelwald replied venomously. "I know him well, and if your investigation has led to him, to have unwittingly immersed yourself in something you cannot even fathom. Tell me your story, and I will tell you mine. I'm certain you will find it fascinating."
Harry eyed the man for a moment before nodding.
He had nothing to lose from this encounter but everything to gain, and Grindelwald would not share what he told him, even just to spite Albus.
"Mine may even be just as fascinating as yours," Harry chuckled humourlessly. "My name is Harry James Potter, and I was born in the year 1980."
Grindelwald recoiled, both from the mention of the name he'd given and the revelation of his travel through time.
"You know, yours might be more fascinating, after all, Harry Potter."
(Break)
"Are you sure about this, my lord?" Avery asked. "If we do this, there is no going back."
"There is already no going back," Voldemort pointed out. "Drastic action is needed for them to understand that we will not allow our legacies to be taken from us or erased. Are you with me?"
"Always, my lord."
Voldemort nodded.
"It will show our superiority, Avery. It will show that no matter how tolerant others become of them, that we will not. Muggles breed like vermin, and yet, it is us who are forced to hide. Let us show them that we no longer wish to do so."
Avery nodded resolutely.
"It shall be done."
With that, he left, and the Dark Lord leaned back in his chair.
With the help of his potions, he was recovering, and it wouldn't be long before he could lead his followers personally, but until then, the undertakings were in the more than capable hands of his most loyal.
(Break)
It was strange to talk about the life he'd left behind some four years ago now, and much of what he said seemed so alien to Harry, so unbelievable, and yet, he had lived every moment he'd described to the attentive Grindelwald.
"Harry Potter," the man murmured. "How are you related to Charlus?"
"He is my grandfather."
Grindelwald hummed.
"I don't expect you would've heard of his exploits against me."
Harry shook his head.
"He was a worthy foe, but those are stories for another day," Grindelwald said with a smile. "My interest lies with you and the very interesting life you have led. Have you told any other?"
"No."
Grindelwald nodded approvingly.
"It would be unwise to unless you knew you could trust that person with your life," he advised.
"I know."
"Good. Now, this Voldemort. I cannot tell you how fortunate you are that you are as whole as you seem to be. Horcruxes are exceedingly dangerous things, and to have even a fragment of soul belonging to someone so jaded and who had done the things he had is nothing short of miraculous. Your mother's magic could only have been so beautifully pure to protect you from it."
"What do you think would've happened if it hadn't been?"
Grindelwald released a deep breath as he shook his head.
"It is hard to say, but I would theorise that you would have grown to be something much like him, perhaps worse or better, depending on how much of your true self you were able to retain. Despite your mother's magic, you still took on many of his traits, though they seemed to better you rather than you being consumed by them. It is quite the feat of magic. All I will say is that you are fortunate, Harry Potter. So very fortunate."
The former Dark Lord fell silent for several moments as he scrutinised Harry before nodding to himself.
"Fair is fair," he sighed. "I will share my story with you, and I expect it will be most illuminating for you and shed some light on what it is you have unwittingly gotten yourself into."
(Break)
She looked towards the clock before checking her own watch. It was late in the evening, much later than Harry usually returned, even when he decided to stay on at Hogwarts to assist the students with their exam preparation.
With it being almost eleven pm, Amelia wondered if he'd been called away again but dismissed the thought.
Harry had gotten into the habit of telling her if he wasn't going to be home, and she began to worry that something had happened to him.
Before she could ponder it further, however, a piercing shrill began to sound from her Auror identification card, and Amelia rushed to retrieve it from within her robes.
"Great," she huffed, seeing that all available Aurors had been summoned.
Dressing quickly, she activated her portkey and found herself among the chaos of the briefing room.
"What is happening?" she asked Alastor as she spotted him sitting in the corner, tapping his wand on his knee.
"An attack," he answered sharply. "London."
"Not Diagon Alley again," Amelia sighed.
"No, London, Bones."
Amelia frowned in confusion before the realisation hit, and the reason why so much panic was ensuing became clear.
"Muggle London?"
"Aye," Moody growled, nodding towards Smith and Grimm as they entered the room.
"ALRIGHT, SETTLE DOWN!" the latter commanded. "For those of you who do not know, we were alerted to a considerable increase in magical activity in the east end of London some eight minutes ago. Large groups of people wearing black robes and white masks have been seen attacking buildings and passers-by here, here, and here. They seem to be making their way here, and that is where we will be heading them off," he explained, pointing to the places of interest on the map. "Trainees, you are to stick closely to your mentors and follow their instructions without deviation. This is no time for heroics. Any questions? No, good. We leave in thirty seconds, so prepare yourselves."
It was odd how quickly the panic had shifted to a nervous, deafening silence whilst the Aurors readied themselves to depart, and each of them went through their own brief routine to prepare themselves for the conflict to come.
Alastor put on a pair of dragonhide gauntlets that Amelia knew were lined with metal around the knuckles.
He'd started doing so years ago, having grown tired of breaking his hands during brawls.
Imelda looked at a photo she kept within a locket of her mother and father, and Amelia simply took some deep breaths whilst inspecting her wand.
"Let's go!" Grimm instructed.
He was the first to activate his portkey, and the others quickly followed.
Appearing in a large square close to what appeared to be a shopping centre, the fires that had been lit in the street over were spreading, and high above was the green effigy the Aurors had become accustomed to seeing.
Screams in the distance filled the air, along with maniacal laughter and even the odd spoken curse.
"Come on, you bastards," Moody growled from next to her, and Amelia's grip tightened around the shaft of her wand.
As though they heard his pleas, it was only a moment later that the first of the robed figures emerged from the side streets, dozens of them to the point that the Aurors were almost outnumbered.
"AURORS!" one of the men shouted warningly.
In a move that surprised Amelia and the rest of her colleagues, the followers of the Dark Lord laughed mockingly before they vanished, leaving nothing but a trail of destruction in their wake.
"COWARDS!" Moody roared furiously.
The sentiment was echoed by many others, but it was confusion that reigned.
Why would they flee?
Wasn't luring the Aurors out in force exactly what they wanted, or were they planning an ambush?
"No one move!" Grimm snapped, holding his wand aloft, evidently having considered the very same thing.
When a minute passed and nothing happened, the tension only grew, but by the fifth, it abated, and the frustration set in.
"Shit!" Grimm cursed. "We've only been had! Come on, we'd best start clearing up the mess. I'll send for the Magical Catastrophes lot and the Obliviators."
The Aurors broke off into groups and began following the devastation wrought by the Dark Lord's followers.
Amelia could only shake her head at the sight of the burning cars, buildings, and even the odd corpses of the muggles who had not been able to escape dotted around the street.
"What the bloody hell happened?" Moody muttered irritably. "Why did they run?"
"Because they could," Amelia answered. "They did it to show that we are not quick enough to respond to them."
"But the muggles? Why would they target the muggles?"
"Because attacking the magical population hasn't served any purpose to them," Amelia grumbled. "Doing this causes all sorts of problems, and not just the deaths and destruction. I wouldn't want to be Leach when he realises he's going to have to explain this to the muggle Prime Minister."
"Bloody hell," Moody muttered. "They've intentionally breached the Statute of Secrecy. It will mean life in prison for any caught."
"They have no intention of being caught," Amelia sighed. "I expect we will see much more of this."
(Break)
"For better or for worse, I stuck to what I believed in, and I lost," Grindelwald said proudly. "Perhaps I was wrong, but even now, I don't think so. One day, the muggles will discover us, and what I fear will come to pass. You may not wish to believe me, Harry Potter, but it is the truth. I did not wish harm on any, even if I wasn't afraid to commit acts of violence to preserve our kind."
Harry nodded his understanding.
The story of his uprising, coming directly from Grindelwald, was told in its rawest form without exaggeration and bluster by someone who would consider themselves a victor in the conflict.
Harry believed the Dark Lord's intentions were good in his own eyes, but there was no justifying all that had happened because of his ambition.
"What does Broz have to do with you?" he asked curiously. "Didn't you invade Poland?"
"I did," Grindelwald confirmed. "Along with many other countries. Until Albus defeated me, I was quite on the way to winning the war entirely. Most of Europe was under the control of my forces, but certain members of the ICW refused to surrender. Britain fought valiantly where France, Spain, and Portugal had fallen. In my own foolish oversight, I provoked the Russians into fighting against me, and that brought enough time to offer a new resistance. By the time the Americans joined in, the tide of the war was turning. Several countries had been taken from me, but not all of them were pleased."
"What do you mean?"
Grindelwald smiled triumphantly.
"There were those, Harry Potter, who believed they would be better under my leadership."
"Broz was one of them?"
"He was, and so was the Ministers of Magic of France, Spain, Bulgaria, Belgium, and the Netherlands. The feather in my cap, however, was the Americans."
"The Americans?"
"My rise to power started across the pond," Grindelwald reminded Harry. "I garnered much support, and before Albus confronted me, the Americans were ready to concede defeat. They did not wish to lose their men and women in a war. In Europe I even met with the Ministers of Magic of all those countries where we agreed to a plan, but my downfall came before we could put it into action. I expect that is why Broz pointed you towards me. Perhaps they never ended their little gathering. The combined power of those eight countries would be quite insurmountable, even for the ICW, who already failed to fight off one man with an army he gathered along the way."
Harry frowned thoughtfully.
France, Belgium, and Poland were all mentioned in connection with the murder of Lord and Lady Bones.
"How does the Serpent tie into all this?"
"Ah, the Serpent," Grindelwald sighed. "Now, he was a worthy adversary, and were it not for the deal struck, the war may have ended differently."
"How so?"
"The Serpent was a Hit wizard who grew in fame across the continent quickly," Grindelwald explained. He had a way of finding even the most elusive of criminals and was an excellent wizard. As much as he became a thorn in my side, I respected his ability. See this?" he asked, pointing to a prominent scar on his neck. It is a souvenir from one of the times we came face to face."
"What happened to him?"
Grindelwald chuckled.
"Everyone has a price, Harry Potter, even the Serpent."
"He sold out?"
"No, he was forced out," Grindelwald corrected. "You see, he stood in my way, and with the help of my allies, we found his weakness. Inadvertently, he revealed his identity…"
"Harry Evans."
"Indeed," Grindelwald said with a grin. "Hit Wizards rely on anonymity, and with his identity revealed, we were able to find his weakness."
"What was his weakness?"
"The same as any other man; a woman."
"A woman?"
The former Dark Lord nodded.
"Miss Eleanor Summerbee, wanted for nine counts of theft and the weakness of the Serpent. We managed to locate her and use her to force Evans to withdraw from the war. Her life for his withdrawal. He agreed and even gave an unbreakable bond. Were it anyone else, I would've killed him, but as dangerous as he was, I did not risk seeking him out when the agreement was in place. Doing so would've broken the bond, and he would've been free to continue his grudge against me. Diplomacy worked, and he simply vanished when Summerbee was returned to him."
"To where?"
Grindelwald shrugged.
"You do not find the Serpent. He finds you."
His words were ominous, and Harry did not miss the respect in his tone.
"You look just like him," Grindelwald murmured. "He, too, was a parselmouth. Perhaps he took a trip through time just like you."
"I have been wondering the same thing," Harry said thoughtfully. "The similarities are strikingly similar."
Grindelwald nodded as he eyed Harry curiously.
"It makes me wonder just how many of you there might be," he mused aloud. "It could be several."
"Maybe, but I'm not so sure. I tend to draw attention to myself no matter what I do or try to avoid it. Trouble has a way of finding me."
Grindelwald chuckled amusedly.
"Well, the Serpent seemed to look for it," he snorted, "and he found more than his fair share."
"Then how did he just vanish?"
"Memory charms, I expect," Grindelwald answered. "Not many knew who he was, and when he did disappear, he was forgotten about quickly, except by those who couldn't, me included, and Broz, evidently. That means that the others involved in our plan probably remember him too."
Harry nodded.
"Do you think they kept the strange alliance together?"
"I think it is likely," Grindelwald answered. "When we came together, we realised the power we could wield as a collective, and even without me, the resources at their disposal are significant. If they are involved in the murder you are investigating, then you have stumbled into something so very dangerous, Harry Potter. You cannot fathom what you have provoked by doing what you are."
"That sounds about right," Harry huffed, doing his best to slot together the new pieces of the puzzle he'd obtained.
If anything, however, he had more questions now than before he'd arrived here, even if Grindelwald had given him more than he'd expected.
"What of me?" the man asked, breaking into his thoughts.
"What do you mean?"
"What happened to me where you came from?"
"Voldemort," Harry answered.
"Voldemort?"
"He sought you out because he believed you could lead him to something he wanted."
Grindelwald frowned, and Harry leaned forward.
"The Elder Wand," he revealed.
Grindelwald's eyes widened.
"You know of it?" he whispered.
Harry nodded as he flicked the extra wand he carried up his left sleeve into his hand.
"I know of it."
The man stared at him in shock for a moment.
"But Albus…"
"He still has the one he took from you, and honestly, I don't have much use for it. My own wand is as exceptional as this has ever been for me, and I keep it as a reminder of all the suffering it has caused."
"Then you are a man who has learned from his experiences, but I would not be so dismissive of the wand's power. If you bond with it and accept it as part of yourself, it can do unimaginable things. If you are to survive what is undoubtedly coming for you, Harry Potter, I would keep it close. It may well save your life."
"What is coming for me?" Harry asked. "Broz seems to think they already know I am looking into it."
"If you managed to get to Broz, then they know," Grindelwald said gravely. "As for what is coming for you, I cannot say, but it will be unlike anything else you've ever faced. Every government has their secrets, and you could well find yourself on the receiving end of the power of eight, coming for you as one."
Harry shook his head.
"But they are all members of the ICW."
"Only because it suits them," Grindelwald pointed out. "You have spent your life fighting masked men, but some masks are more figurative than physical. A disguise comes in many forms, Harry, and that is something you should not forget."
"I won't," Harry assured the man as a pair of hurried footsteps could be heard approaching.
"Come, Harry, we must leave," Dumbledore said urgently. "It seems as though Tom has attacked muggle London."
Harry could only shake his head in response to the news as he turned to follow the concerned headmaster.
"Write to me, Harry Jameson," Grindelwald called after them. "I have found our conversation to be most illuminating."
Harry nodded and ignored the curious look Dumbledore gave him.
"How bad is it?" he asked.
"Bad enough that it will undoubtedly cause quite the stir," Albus answered grimly. "Tom has truly crossed a line that he shouldn't have."