Reformed, Returned and Really Trying (Harry Potter AU) (Complete)

Chapter 6: Voldemort

Ministry of Magic, London, September 10th, 1997

Compared to Albus’s office, the office of the late Minister for Magic was a disappointment. Even if Gellert Grindelwald would discount the fact that it wasn’t Albus’s, the blatant lack of even a hint of a personal touch made it feel less like the personal domain of the leader of Britain, and more like a guest room in the Leaky Cauldron. Which, now that Gellert gave it a little more thought, was probably the point - British Ministers for Magic were elected, after all, and could be fired at any moment. Or something like that - he didn’t really remember Albus’s lessons about democracy that well.

Still, even a guest room at the Leaky Cauldron had a more personal touch, at least that had been true when he had rented one after…

He shook his head. There was no need to dwell on such painful memories. Nor did he have the time for such woolgathering. Not when it had been barely a day since he had forced the British Ministry to surrender and had taken control of Diagon Alley. With the Ministry employees either in custody or in hiding, the streets of Diagon Alley still covered with rubble and guarded by a thin line of Storm Wizards, he could finally focus on dealing with Voldemort once and for all.

Or he would be able to, if not for all those stupid people who kept bothering him or Hans with requests and questions, as if he were the Minister for Magic, or had any intention of ruling Britain. Couldn’t they see that he had much more important things to do? Like waging war? He had taken over the Minister’s office because that was what you did when you took the enemy’s stronghold, not because he wanted to take over the man’s office.

He cleared his desk with a flick of his wand, watching as the parchment and paper aeroplanes - probably a muggle influence - were swept away in a gust of wind and spread out over the carpet. There! That for politics!

Another flick of his wand spread a map of Britain on his desk. Voldemort was hiding somewhere in the country. Probably. It wasn’t as if there was a map of France in this office, anyway. All Gellert had to do was find him. And that would be achieved as soon as Snape managed to get his act together and inform him where this Dark Lord was hiding.

He scowled. Snape was probably limping around on some field like a crippled muggle, just as he had done at Hogwarts. For a spy personally chosen by Albus, the man had some snivelling tendencies. It wasn’t as if they had broken his wand arm, after all. At least Gellert didn’t think they had. Snape certainly hadn’t complained. Although he hadn’t had any teeth at the time, so any complaints would have been difficult to understand anyway.

Whatever. The important thing was that Snape had a mission, and had so far failed to accomplish it. And until the spy finally stopped feeling sorry for himself and managed a short Apparition, there wasn’t much that Gellert could do about Voldemort.

He leaned back on the surprisingly comfortable chair. In theory, he could grab Potter and start travelling the country. The kid was linked by prophecy to Voldemort, and they could sense each other. Unfortunately, the range of that was rather short, and therefore Potter’s use as a Dark Lord detector was very, very limited. Almost as limited as the use of this office as a proper command room. No wonder the Ministry had put up such a poor show against him. You couldn’t wage a proper war without a proper command room.

The door opened, and Hans peered inside. “Meister Grindelwald!”

“Yes?”

“Mr Weasley is here to see you.”

Gellert perked up. The leader of the Order of the Phoenix! That meant more news from the war! “Send him in!”

Hans disappeared before Gellert could reconsider. There were so many Weasleys that this could be anyone!

But it was the correct Mr Weasley who entered his office. “Good morning, Mister Grindelwald.”

“Good morning. What news do you have?”

The wizard cleared his throat. “There are several rather urgent issues that need to be addressed.”

Gellert huffed. The only thing that mattered was: Where was Voldemort?

Mr Weasley flinched a little but continued. “The Department of Mysteries is still sealed. The Unspeakables haven’t reacted to any attempt at communication. Given the delicate and dangerous research they conduct, that could present a danger if not solved.

Gellert snorted. Albus had told him enough about those people. “Since we don’t have any plans to interfere with their business, they should reciprocate.” They were smart people, after all - Albus had told Gellert that they were among the smartest in Britain. Granted, he had also said they weren’t among the wisest wizards in Britain, but nobody was perfect. Except for Albus, of course. He suddenly frowned. “At least I don’t know of any plan to interfere with them. Are you aware of any such plans?” After all, Gellert hadn’t had any plan to conquer the Ministry yesterday, but it still happened.

“No, no.” Mr Weasley shook his head.

“Good. Let them come out when they’re good and ready. Everyone gets hungry sooner or later.” Gellert shook his head. To think that he was being bothered by something so obvious!

“Then there’s the matter of the French.”

“The French? Haven’t they all fought to the death?” Gellert tilted his head. “Are you certain that we didn’t capture a Belgian by mistake?” That had happened to him once, back in the war. A rather embarrassing mistake that had forced him to conquer Magical Belgium in the end.

“Ah, no. I meant the French government. The Duc has called the takeover of the Ministry an invasion and is appealing to the ICW.” Mr Weasley said.

Gellert narrowed his eyes. “That isn’t just another story from the Daily Prophet, is it? You can’t trust anything in that newspaper.” Probably not even the date.

Mr Weasley shook his head. “No, sir. Matter of fact, the Daily Prophet’s offices were completely destroyed in the fighting yesterday. There hasn’t been an issue today.”

“That’s the best news I’ve heard today!” No more lies about him! Now The Quibbler had a monopoly!

“Err, quite, I suppose.” Mr Weasley coughed again. He did that a lot, Gellert noticed. Maybe he should check this? Too much smoke was bad for your lungs, and there had been a lot of fires yesterday. “We were informed of this by our representant in Geneva. He has assured us of his loyalty to the new regime.”

“I see.” He didn’t, actually - who cared about the ICW? As long as you weren’t trying to break the Statute of Secrecy, they didn’t care about you. But Mr Weasley thought this was important, and he probably wouldn’t stop bothering Gellert about this if nothing was done. Obliviating him wouldn’t help, either - the British were almost as fixated on paperwork as the Prussians, and he would keep coming to disturb Gellert. And Albus wouldn’t like it if Gellert killed his second in command. Gellert rubbed his beard - like Albus did. Wait… wasn’t there a French Weasley? Yes, the wedding!

He smiled. “The solution is simple. Have your daughter-in-law tell the Duc that we have no intention of invading France.” Gellert had said that numerous times, but since the Duc was French, he would probably only believe it if a pretty witch said it.

“I... I will speak to her about this.”

“Good.” Gellert sighed. One international crisis dealt with. “Was that all?”

“Ah, no, sir.” Mr Weasley smiled.

Gellert suppressed a wince.

“There’s also the matter of restoring the Floo Network.”

Gellert was a wizard of many talents, but dealing with the Floo Network was not one of them - even if he had the time to deal with such a problem. That’s what you hired specialists for! Why were they bothering him with such details? He held up a hand. “Am I correct in assuming that you have a lot more such administrative questions?”

“Yes?” The man was still smiling, of rather weakly.

Gellert sighed. “I see.” And he did. “Why don’t you ask the Minister about this? I’m busy conducting a war. For Britain, if I may be so bold to point out.”

“Err… the Minister is dead, sir.” Mr Weasley glanced around.

“So? He had a vice-Minister or deputy, I assume.”

“Well, in his absence, the Chief Warlock would step in for matters of policy, while the administrative matters were handled by the Heads of the different departments...”

“There you have it! Let them deal with this!” Gellert huffed. Problem solved.

“...but the Chief Warlock has fled the premises - with most of the Wizengamot - and the department heads are either dead or in cells,” Mr Weasley finished.

Gellert rubbed his forehead. This stupidity would be the death of him. And what would Albus think, then? No, wrong question! What would Albus do? He smiled. As usual, the answer was obvious once he thought about it. Albus would delegate! But Albus delegated all the aggravating details to his deputy, and Gellert didn’t have a deputy. He had Hans and Katrina, but Hans was needed for training new recruits, and in the field, and Katrina was handling matters in Prussia. He blinked. Once again, Albus’s plans had anticipated the problem and presented him with the solution.

He stood and gathered his map. “Mr Weasley, consider yourself acting Minister for Magic! Effective immediately.” It was the proper democratic solution, too - the Weasleys had to be outnumbering everyone else in the Ministry right now.

Gellert quickly walked past the gaping wizard and nodded at the papers and parchments on the floor. “Some of those sheets are probably important,” he told the man on the way out of the office.

He told the secretary outside the good news, gathered Hans and returned to his command room at The Burrow. He had a war to wage, after all!

*****​

The Burrow, Ottery St Catchpole, Devon, September 11th, 1997

Sitting on the Quidditch pitch at The Burrow and staring at the pond, Harry Potter sighed. Mr Weasley was the Minister for Magic. Harry hadn’t expected that, but it made sense if you thought about it. He was the highest-ranking and most experienced Ministry employee among the Order, and the only one of the remaining Ministry leaders who wasn’t afraid to talk to Grindelwald.

Still, he wondered if Mr Weasley would be able to handle the responsibility. To lead the entire Ministry, after a violent coup - two, actually - and in the middle of a war? With threats from France hanging in the air? And the cells stuffed with captured Death Eaters and their helpers, and the muggleborns screaming for their blood thanks to Hermione’s slightly too-effective propaganda?

Well, it wasn’t his problem. He lay back in the grass and stared at the sky. Voldemort was still at large. They hadn’t made any progress in their search for the Horcruxes. They hadn’t actually done any searching, as far as he knew. Hermione was busy in the Hogwarts library - and probably champing at the bit to ransack the Department of Mysteries’ library, should they ever unseal their floor - while Ron and Ginny were sorting through the brooms ‘confiscated’ in the fighting.

His friends had adapted surprisingly quickly to some parts of the war. They had even corrupted Luna - the girl had looted the Daily Prophet offices to the bedrock.

“Harry!”

Speak - or think - of the devil, and he, or she, appears, Harry thought as a blonde witch stared down at him.

“Are you on Heliopath watch?”

He had no idea what Heliopaths were and knew better than to ask. “No, I’m taking a break.”

“Ah! Good idea!” She laid down next to him. Then squirmed for a few minutes, apparently searching the most comfortable position. “There!” she finally declared with a sigh.

Harry grunted and closed his eyes enjoying the sunshine.

“Daddy’s depressed, you know.”

He looked at her. “Depressed? What happened?”

“Oh, terrible things!” She sniffed. “The Quibbler has replaced the Daily Prophet as the biggest newspaper in Britain. We’re selling so many issues, the poor owls are having wing cramps each day. We’re no longer forced into the underground, fighting the power with truth and honest journalism. We’ve got a brand new set of printing supplies!”

Which Luna herself had looted at the same time she had burned down the offices of the formerly biggest newspaper in Britain. “Aren’t those good things?”

She shook her head, which was a weird sight since she didn’t lift her head from the ground. “No! Don’t you realise what has happened?”

“No?”

“Daddy’s become the voice of the government! He’s now part of the establishment!”

Ah. Harry didn’t know what to say to that.

Fortunately, Luna didn’t seem to expect him to say anything anyway. “And I cannot help him in these trying times since I cannot quit my job as an embedded journalist!”

Harry was certain that she could. It wasn’t as if Hans would treat her as a deserter. At least Harry thought Hans wouldn’t - the man was a little extreme, even for a Storm Wizard.

Before Luna could continue, Harry heard something - or someone - falling into the pond. He jumped up, wand drawn in an instant. There! Someone was flailing in the pond - and sinking.

Harry acted at once. “Accio drowning person’s robes!”

A wet, black tangle of limbs and robes shot out of the water and landed - hard - on the ground in front of him. It - or he, it seemed to be a wizard - looked vaguely familiar.

“Potter… I should have known the nightmare would continue.”

He knew that voice, though the face didn’t match.

“Snape?”

“Don’t stand there gaping like a dunderhead! Go and tell Grindelwald that I know where the Dark Lord is hiding!”

*****​

The Weald, Kent, Britain, September 11th, 1997

For the stronghold of the enemy who had given Albus so much trouble, the building was pathetic. Voldemort was truly the scum of the earth if he didn’t even deign to grant Gellert Grindelwald the courtesy of occupying an actual fortress for the climax of this war! How could anyone take Voldemort seriously if he was hiding in a beaten-down cottage in the middle of nowhere? It wasn’t even a mountaintop shrouded by perpetual clouds!

Gellert shook his head in disgust at the sight. If he didn’t need to capture Voldemort to find out where he had hidden his Horcruxes, he would simply seal the place off and let Fiendfyre scorch this affront to all that was just and right from the earth.

Alas, he couldn’t. He sighed before turning to his Storm Wizards. “Hans!”

“Hier, Meister Grindelwald!”

“Take half our Storm Wizards and lock down the area. Don’t let anything escape - not even a bug!” Such a despicable enemy like Voldemort might even be a cockroach animagus! “I’ll lead the rest and take the cottage.”

“Jawohl, Meister Grindelwald!” Hans bellowed and turned away.

Gellert knew that Hans would prefer to be at his side, but it couldn’t be helped. Besides, Voldemort was obviously scared of duelling him and had avoided Dumbledore as well, so this shouldn’t be too dangerous. “Potter! You’re with me!”

“Yes, Meister Grindelwald.”

He turned to face the house again as Hans deployed his forces on the ground and in the sky. Anti-Apparition and Anti-Portkey Jinxes already covered the house - cast by Voldemort himself according to Snape - but they were now covered with Gellert’s own. And anyone trying to flee on a broom would be intercepted.

He still couldn’t fathom why his enemy had done that. You’d have to be a fool, desperate or French to apparate blindly into an enemy stronghold, even a pathetic one like this disgrace.

No matter, it was time to get this farce over with. Gellert stood straight and raised his wand. “Follow me!”

“There might be traps,” he heard Granger call out behind him.

He scoffed. “Of course there’ll be traps!” There better were traps! Not even Voldemort could be so pathetic as not to secure his stronghold at all. “But they won’t avail him.” He slashed his wand downward and felt it vibrate with power. A moment later, a wave of earth wider than the entire building rose in front of him and raced towards the house, upending the ground in its wake. He saw a few curses go off, and what looked like several Inferi hidden in the ground get thrown around, before the earth wave crashed into the house and smashed its front in.

A swish of his wand turned the torn earth and stone into a solid sheet of stone, forming a safe path to the house. Once more Gellert raised his wand. “Charge!”

“Für Grindelwald!”

“Für das Grössere Wohl!”

He strode forward at a brisk pace as his Storm Wizards swept past him, yelling as they charged the enemy. For a moment, it felt like old times again, and he smiled.

Then he had to keep Potter and his friends from charging with the others. “I said ‘with me’, not ‘go ahead’.”

“Sorry,” the male Weasley muttered.

The female one simply scowled.

And Granger said something that sounded like ‘told you so’.

He shook his head, torching two Inferi who were trying to dig themselves out of their stone prison and continued towards the enemy.

Up ahead, a handful of Death Eaters sallied, wands flashing, but they were outnumbered and - as expected - outclassed, and swiftly slain. As pathetic as their stronghold. If Albus could see this - all his careful, brilliant planning for this war, and then it ended with such a poor show!

Or not, he thought as the front rank of his Storm Wizards vanished in a ball of lightning. As the kids behind him cursed, Gellert smiled. He’d get his climactic duel, at last! He sped up, not quite running - he wasn’t a young wizard any more - but quick enough to catch up before another… there went the next rank… before a third group of his Storm Wizards perished.

“Fall back! Spread out!” he yelled.

His Storm Wizards obeyed, levitating the wounded - or the corpses; Gellert couldn’t tell. But there he was. Voldemort! Albus’s final enemy! They would settle this like wizards!

But there was a witch at Voldemort’s side. That wouldn’t do. “Potter! Take care of the witch! I will deal with Voldemort!”

“That’s Bellatrix Lestrange!” he heard Granger yell behind him.

Good - they knew their enemy. It shouldn’t be a problem with their odds, then. He nodded at Voldemort and took a few steps to the right.

“Grindelwald,” the half-snake wizard - whoever had created his new body must have failed anatomy - snarled.

“Voldemort, I presume,” Grindelwald nodded at him.

His enemy nodded as well. Perfect! Gellert would have been mortified if he were duelling the wrong wizard. He sneered at him “You’ve had my love killed. I will have my vengeance!” It had sounded better in his head. He’d have to talk to Miss Lovegood about editing.

Voldemort, rude as had to be expected, was already casting, but Gellert managed to block the Killing Curse with a conjured rock. And the next. And the one after that. Didn’t his enemy know any other spell? He conjured a wall, then banished it at his opponent, following up with a Fire-Cat-of-Nine-Tails that struck right when his wall shattered.

But Voldemort had moved already, and Gellert’s spell missed. In retaliation, Voldemort sent an earth wave at him, but Gellert easily blocked that with one of his own. The resulting clash covered the entire area with clumps of earth, several smashing against his shield.

It also obscured the battlefield. Gellert hoped Potter wouldn’t be hindered too much by this. But where was Voldemort? There! Gellert sent a Killing Curse at the man - he could also copy his enemy’s spells - and followed up with Acid Spiders. Voldemort blocked the Killing Curse, and the Acid Spiders splashed harmlessly against the man’s shield, their acid innards covering the ground but not touching Voldemort.

Gellert frowned. Even Albus had had a little trouble with those. But they would restrict his movement, and that… Was he flying without a broom? Ah, yes, Voldemort could do that. Not very sporting.

He sent a few Piercing Curses up, but had barely time to aim as conjured blades - barbed blades - rained down on him, straining his Shield Charm. He was panting from having to move so much, and Voldemort was flying circles around him - literally.

Gellert’s eyes widened when he spotted the thin line Voldemort was trailing behind. Steel Silk! Snarling, he flicked his wand at the ground, and a pillar of earth rose beneath him, carrying him into the air a moment before the slings of Steel Silk Voldemort had laid contracted, slicing the pillar into dozens of pieces.

Gellert jumped off, a Cushioning Charm allowing him to land without breaking his bones, but his enemy had anticipated that and blew him off his feet with a Bludgeoning Curse that almost shattered his shield.

He rolled with the blow, clenching his teeth when rocks and shards of the blades Voldemort had conjured earlier dug into his skin, and came up in a crouch that strained his back even more, but caused Voldemort’s next Killing Curse to pass over his head.

This duel was turning out to be more difficult than he had expected. Much more difficult. A flying opponent was a difficult target under the best circumstances, but usually, they had trouble aiming while riding a broom.

Voldemort didn’t have such a handicap.

More blades and stones rained down on Gellert, and while his own curses forced Voldemort to hastily change course, Gellert couldn’t exploit this since the blades and stones transformed into snakes as soon as they touched the ground.

Giant snakes.

He cursed under his breath as he started to blow them away. This wasn’t looking good. Not at all.

*****​

They were four against one. Good odds. They had trained for weeks to fight together against the worst Hans could throw at them. And they had fought their enemy before. According to all Harry Potter knew, the outcome of this fight should have been obvious from the start.

It wasn’t. Lestrange was faster than in the Battle of the Ministry. Much faster. Probably crazier too. He barely managed to evade her Torture Curse, thanks to Ron and Hermione casting Piercing Curses and throwing off her aim but neither their spells nor Harry’s own curse hit Bellatrix’ Shield Charm. His blood protection should work against any follower of Voldemort, but Harry wasn’t willing to test this against Lestrange unless there was no other choice.

The witch was practically flying over the battlefield as she rushed forward at an insane speed, a flick of her wand sending three yellow curses into Harry’s group, forcing them to dive to the ground a second before she was in their midst.

Then Ron screamed under her Torture Curse. Hermione yelled and hit the dark witch with a purple curse that dissolved her shield and forced her to stop torturing Ron. Harry and Ginny sent Cutting Curses at her, but both curses went wide as Bellatrix slid to the side as if she were on ice instead of on broken ground, and a moment later, another shield enveloped her.

How on earth… Harry’s eyes widened as he finally understood what the dark witch was doing. “She’s flying!” he yelled.

Bellatrix shot up in the air and cackled. “Oh, the little boy noticed! Took you long enough!”

Ginny cursed at the dark witch, then sent a curse at her, which, once again, went wide as Hermione rushed to help Ron stand.

“We can’t take her on the ground!” Harry yelled and pulled out his Firebolt from the enchanted pocket in his coat. “Mount up!”

He kept his eyes on Bellatrix and not on his friends as he shot in the air. Hermione wasn’t a good flyer. Ron had been struck with the Torture Curse. Neither would be effective in the air. That left him and Ginny.

Worse odds than at the start. Technically.

No one beat him in the air.

He grinned as he rushed at her, corkscrewing to evade the curses she sent at him. His own Cutting Curse missed as well, but she wasn’t cackling any more. And Ginny was circling her. Bellatrix could only focus on one of them at a time.

She must have realised that since she suddenly started to fly more evasively - and towards Ron and Hermione!

Harry cursed and leaned forward until his stomach was touching the shaft of his broom. She was fast, but he was faster. And she was a far larger target than a Snitch. And not quite as agile.

He caught up to her before she reached his friends, rolling when she moved her wand. Her Green curse missed him by inches. And then he crashed into her, their shields shattering under the impact, and his hand shot out - and snatched her wand out of her grip.

She screeched in anger, lashing out with her hands as if they were claws, but he was already past her, holding up her wand.

And snapped it in front of her.

She lost whatever grip on sanity she had had left and rushed at him, screaming like a harpy. Harry dove towards the ground, and she followed. He pulled up at the last moment, almost crashing into the ground, but she kept on his tail.

“You won’t escape me!” he heard her scream behind him. “I’ll kill you with my bare hands!”

“No, you won’t,” he muttered as he suddenly pulled to the left.

A second later, Bellatrix flew straight into the razor web Hermione had conjured. The dark witch screamed as the wires cut into her and she hit the ground in a tangle of limbs and razor wire. Harry didn’t think she could have survived that, but Ginny’s volley of three Cutting Curses removed all doubts.

He smiled and was about to check on Ron when he noticed Grindelwald was in trouble. Voldemort was flying without a broom and casting curse after curse at his enemy. Grindelwald was still fighting, but he was hurt - his left arm was hanging at his side, and he was stumbling more than stepping around as his shield was battered from multiple directions.

Clenching his teeth, Harry urged his Firebolt forward. Towards Voldemort. His parents’ murderer. His scar started to hurt as he closed in, and he saw Voldemort stop casting for a moment, turning to face him.

“Voldemort!” Harry yelled, wand pointed at the Dark Lord.

“Expelliarmus!”

“Avada Kedavra!”

As Harry had hoped, the two spells collided, as in the graveyard, and a golden cage enveloped them.

*****​

What was Potter doing? You didn’t intervene in a duel! Gellert Grindelwald roasted the last of those pesky snakes alive and vanished the closest glowing-hot boulder before it could explode like the rest. A golden cage?

His eyes widened. Of course! The Prophecy! The Power the Dark Lord knew not! Only, that wasn’t exactly an unknown power. Albus had mentioned to him in 1995. Priori Incantatem. Brother Wands. Voldemort would be aware of this - he had experienced it himself, after all.

Gellert looked at the glowing light linking the wands of the two wizards. It wasn’t moving or changing. Another sign that this wasn’t the prophesied power. On the other hand, this was a fated duel. A young man avenging the murder of his parents. A rite of passage. It would be rude to meddle.

Although… Gellert had been there first. It had been his duel, not Potter’s. Prophecy or not. Potter had also killed the witch already. And Gellert really wanted to get back at Voldemort. Even if it was rather cheap to exploit the fact that Gellert’s enemy couldn’t move. But then - wasn’t that Albus’s plan? His love had told him about the effect. And had sent Gellert to protect the boy, knowing that fate would lead to this. Albus wouldn’t have done this if he hadn’t planned for Gellert to be here!

Gellert smiled. It was all going according to Albus’s plan! The boy’s female Weasley was sending curses at Voldemort, now, although they were deflected by the golden light surrounding Potter and Voldemort.

Well, the witch didn’t wield the Elder Wand. Gellert smirked and pointed it at Voldemort. Two iron demi-spheres appeared next to his enemy. A moment later, they slammed together, their razor-sharp edges meeting each other, severing the link between the wands as well as most of Voldemort’s limbs.

The hand and forearm that were left outside the sphere were immediately incinerated in the backlash, together with the wand, but Gellert saw Voldemort’s lower legs hit the ground. Someone would have to collect them - they were probably poisonous.

He casually healed his broken and burned left arm, then walked over to where the sphere had crashed into the ground. Defeated, but not killed by a modified construction spell,

Just as Albus had planned. Marvellous! And this also ensured that Albus’s duel with Gellert would remain the most famous duel known to wizardkind.

Albus had been really too kind for taking this into account as well!

*****​

Hogwarts, September 12th, 1997

Whoever had created Voldemort’s body really hadn’t thought things through. Gellert Grindelwald shook his head as Gottlieb picked up another tool in Albus’s torture chamber. The body was very resilient but couldn’t kill itself. Which meant that once Voldemort was captured, he could be interrogated very easily without Gottlieb having to be too careful about not accidentally killing him. Such short-sightedness. If Gellert had been crazy enough to split his soul, he would certainly have included an easy way to suicide and evade capture that way. But as Albus had told him - Voldemort was too arrogant to ever contemplate his own defeat. Even after having been defeated several times by a child.

Granted, a child with a prophesied power, but Voldemort had been aware of that as well. Gellert sighed. Some people simply never learned. Unlike himself, of course. He had learned his lesson. Thoroughly. He had changed for the good. Not the Greater Good. The good. Albus’s good.

He nodded and ran his wand over the captured Voldemort. A very resilient body, indeed. “Gottlieb, I think you’ll have to work another hour or two before we can use the Veritaserum. I’m sorry about the additional work.”

“Oh, I do not mind, Meister Grindelwald!” The old wizard beamed at him as he brandished his knife. “I can try so many things compared to the other prisoners, it’s a joy to work!”

Gellert nodded, relieved. He loved it when his followers were happy - any good leader did. Another lesson of which Albus would have approved.

He smiled as he left the torture chamber. He would spend the next hour in Albus’s office, reading his love’s favourite books. What a pleasant afternoon!

And he might note down the new ideas about improved Inferi he had had while examining Voldemort’s artificial body. No, no. He shouldn’t do that. That would be expanding the Dark Arts. And that was bad.

Although… if someone else copied this idea, wouldn’t it be good if the new Inferi were already well-researched so that they could be fought more effectively? Maybe he shouldn’t be too hasty.

If only Albus’s portrait would wake up already. Gellert had so much to tell him!

*****​

Hogwarts, September 14th, 1997

Harry Potter stared at the diadem resting on the marble table. Just seeing it made his scar hurt. Or maybe it was Voldemort’s presence next door. But it didn’t matter. He wouldn’t let the foul thing out of his sight. That was one of Voldemort’s Horcruxes. Hidden in Hogwarts itself - in the Room of Requirement. Almost in plain sight! How often had he been in there, training? Unaware of how close this thing was…

He shook his head. Even knowing exactly where Voldemort had hidden it, it had still taken him most of a day to recover it - the elves had rearranged the room a few times since Voldemort’s last visit. With Voldemort’s familiar already destroyed - he would have to apologise to Luna for doubting her father’s article about the attack in Godric’s Hollow - that left Slytherin’s Locket and Hufflepuff’s Cup and Voldemort would be mortal again.

And his friends were recovering those Horcruxes already! Although… he glanced at the clock in Filch’s office. Shouldn’t they be back already? What could be keeping them?

*****​

“It was detour after bloody detour, mate,” Ron said, dropping the locket on the table next to the diadem. Harry’s scar ached a little more. “R.A.B. was indeed Sirius’s brother, but the locket wasn’t in Grimmauld Place any more.”

“Kreacher told us that it had been stolen,” Ginny added. “By Fletcher!”

“So we had to go to St Mungo’s, and interrogate him,” Ron said, glaring at his sister. “Only, that idiot didn’t have the locket any more either. You’ll never guess who had it!”

Harry rubbed his scar. “Who had it?”

“Umbridge!” Ginny said before Ron could answer. “She was right in the next room - but she couldn’t remember anything. Not even with Veritaserum. So we had to search her house.”

“Might have worsened her problems a little,” Ron said, “but who cares? We finally found the locket in her office in the Ministry, with her cat cup collection!” He shook his head. “Where’s Hermione?”

Harry shrugged. “I don’t know. It shouldn’t take too long to get to Bellatrix’s vault and get the cup. All of the Lestranges are dead, so the goblins shouldn’t make a fuss.”

*****​

Diagon Alley, London, September 16th, 1997

“Are they still at it?” Harry Potter asked from his seat at the counter. How long did the Curse-Breakers need to breach the goblins’ defences?

Ron, standing at the window with a good view of the stairs leading up to the entrance to Gringotts, nodded. “Yes. No change as far as I can see. Well, there’s another dead goblin on the stairs, played dead after their last failed sally and tried to make a run for it.”

“Why have the goblins refused to let us access the vault?” Harry asked. It made no sense. “You’ve had an order from the Ministry, death certificates, everything!”

Hermione sniffed. “They claim that the Ministry’s not the legitimate government. As if the Ministry under Voldemort had been legitimate!”

“It’s international pressure,” Ginny said. “Bill told me that France and other nations threatened that the goblins would be considered our allies if they cooperated with Grindelwald. And that would include the loss of any concessions and monopolies in Europe.”

Hermione scoffed. “So now we treat them as our enemies - which they are - instead, and they’ll lose far more than a little gold. Serves them right!”

“Yeah,” Ron nodded. “They stupid greedy buggers already lost two dozen guards trying to dislodge the Curse-Breakers. Once their wards fall, we’ll storm the bank.”

“The first invasion of Gringotts since the treaty in 1765!” Luna said, looking up from the desk she had appropriated. “We’ll be making history, and The Quibbler will be covering it as it happens!”

Harry cleared his throat. “You know, I was wondering…”

“Yes?” Ginny leaned forward and smiled at him.

“Not about that,” Harry said. He wasn’t asking her to come snog in the backroom, not this time. “I was wondering if we’re doing the right thing.”

“It’s the only way to get at the last Horcrux,” Hermione said. “It’s not our fault the goblins have decided to be suicidal.”

“Not that,” Harry said, sighing. “Or not just that. I mean fighting for Grindelwald. There’s a reason that Europe loathes and fears him.” Several reasons, actually.

Hermione scoffed. “Of course they fear him! He was the first influential wizard to promote equality for muggleborns! If he had won, the pureblood regimes would have been swept away."

“And he would have replaced them with a dictatorship,” Harry replied.

“Well, yes. But he changed in prison,” Hermione said. “And it’s not his fault that the purebloods refuse to realise and accept that.”

“But fighting as Storm Wizards…” Harry shrugged.

“We’d be fighting for him anyway since he is the only one who actually fought and beat Voldemort,” Ginny said. “None of the other countries helped us. So, what matters what robes we wear? Leather coats are far more practical for fighting than robes, anyway. Sturdier too. Plus, they do look stylish!"

Harry couldn't argue that.

“And we’re following Dumbledore’s plan,” Ron added. “You trust him, don't you?"

“I don’t think that Dumbledore planned for us to lay siege to Gringotts," Harry said.

"Well, he couldn’t have foreseen everything,” Hermione retorted. “But it’s a rather small adjustment, after all we’ve done already."

"And looting Flourish and Blotts is part of those ‘adjustments’?" Harry asked, pointedly glancing at the empty shelves surrounding them.

"Don't be silly! This location clearly is perfect for the command post. I simply evacuated the books so they wouldn’t be damaged in the fighting."

"That's your fault, mate," Ron cut in. "If you had supported me, the command post would have been in 'Quality Quidditch Supplies', and we'd have new brooms.

"Ron! Don't you realise that you’re talking about looting shops?" Harry stared at his best friend.

“We’re not looting,” Ron said. “We’re requisitioning supplies.”

“Important supplies.” Luna nodded several times.

“And preserving books from destruction,” Hermione added. “Without us, who knows what would have befallen this shop?”

“Since the farthest the goblins have managed to reach when charging our positions was twenty yards out the bank’s entrance, I think nothing,” Harry said. He sighed. “So, you are alright with this?” His gesture covered both their coats as well as the siege outside.

“It’s not as if we’re attacking innocents,” Hermione said. “We’ve been fighting an entirely defensive war.”

“And the French would threaten us anyway. Did you hear that they tried to arrest Fleur and her family just for carrying a message from Dad?” Ginny shook her head. “We’re fighting against the Dark Lord to protect everyone else. We’re doing nothing wrong.”

Ron grinned. “And a little requisitioning is a small price to pay to be rid of the Dark Lord.”

Everyone but Harry nodded with a wide grin.

He shook his head. Perhaps they were right - they all had risked their lives fighting Voldemort, multiple times, and, so far, had received more scorn than thanks.

It was just too bad that the Firebolt II wasn’t on the market yet.

*****​

“They’ve breached the wards!” Ron yelled.

Harry Potter jumped up, dislodging Ginny, who had taken a nap with her head in his lap, and rushed to the window, followed by Hermione, Luna and his cursing girlfriend. He was just in time to see the entrance of the bank vanish in a fireball.

“Must be Grindelwald,” Ron said. “Didn’t know he was already back. Damn. That means we can’t claim we have new orders and join the next wave.”

“Can’t be helped,” Harry said. “If not for Luna wanting to see the siege, we’d be stuck at Hogwarts guarding the anchors.” Grindelwald had insisted on keeping them safe, and now that Voldemort was a prisoner, Harry hadn’t been able to argue that his presence was required due to the prophecy.

The first wave of Storm Wizards entered the bank. Harry caught glimpses of close quarter combat before the second wave of black-clad wizards and witches rushed in. He thought he saw Grindelwald among them, but it was hard to tell - he was wearing the same coat as the others, after all.

Harry sighed. It felt wrong to simply sit and watch his comrades fight. Anticlimactic, even.

Then he winced. That was what Grindelwald had said. And Harry didn’t think he liked that comparison.

*****​

Hogwarts, September 16th, 1997

Gellert Grindelwald smiled proudly. Albus plan was close to completion. He had personally recovered the last Horcrux in a pitched battle. Well, a battle. Without wands, goblins weren’t a match for his Storm Wizards. Sure, they had caught a few green recruits, especially in the tunnels, but over all? Magic beat blades, as it should.

There was a reason goblins weren’t allowed wands, after all. The little beasts would be a veritable terror with them. Or would have been. He wasn’t certain how many had survived - he had been a bit generous with the acid cloud spells on the lower levels - but he doubted they’d start more trouble any time soon.

It wasn’t important anyway. Important was that they could finally fulfil Albus’s last orders and destroy Voldemort! He glanced at the Horcruxes laid on the marble table, then at the kids lined up next to him. “Mr Potter, would you like to do the honours?”

The kid took a deep breath and nodded, then stepped forward and raised his sword. Fortunately, Snape had remembered to tell them that Albus’s had prepared a means to destroy the Horcruxes efficiently before Gellert had started to teach the kids how to cast Fiendfyre. Such lessons were always a little lively, and for some reason, some people had issues with that.

But the sword was a fine, easy way to destroy Horcruxes. Or Dark Lords. To think that Albus had arranged for its creation years ago, and had kept it a secret! What foresight! He sighed.

Potter looked at him, hesitating, and Gellert waved. “Never mind, stray thought. Go ahead, Finish it!”

The kid took a few more swings than expected to destroy the Horcruxes. Understandable, really - it wasn’t as if anyone had given him lessons in sword fighting. And what fool would waste anyone’s time doing that, anyway? The siege of Gringotts had just proven how worthless blades were when pitted against wands. It didn’t matter anyway; after a minute and some impressive displays of curses, the soul anchors lay broken and smoking on the marble plate.

“Very good!” Gellert beamed at the kids - who were for some reason rather pale. Had the mad, desperate rantings of the various Horcruxes affected them so badly? He hadn’t been paying attention. Well, it was to be expected of witches; they were rather emotional. Like McGonagall; that witch was still going on about using Albus’s office, as if she didn’t have a perfectly fine office of her own.

He cleared his throat. “Now, let’s execute Voldemort.” A swish of his wand vanished the conjured wall next to him, revealing the wizard in question - or what was left of his artificial body - stuck to another marble slate.

Gellert ignored the gagging noises behind him and smiled at Albus’s enemy. “Your hour has come. All your soul anchors have been destroyed. You are about to die for real. You will spend eternity in agony, rueing the day you dared to hurt Albus, while your soul languishes, unable to pass on into the afterlife!”

He patted the deformed head of the wizard and turned to Potter. Who was looking more green than pale now. Kids. He nodded encouragingly. “Your fate awaits, Mr Potter.”

Potter nodded, more than a little shakingly, then stepped forward and looked at the body.

“Beheading it will do it,” Grindelwald told him - he had studied the body extensively, after all.

Another nod, the blade rose, then came down - and Potter collapsed, blood spurting out of his scar as a green shade rose from the headless body - answering Gellert’s question where exactly the soul had been anchored, in the head or the heart - and started to fade while wailing.

It was much more dramatic than Gellert had expected if he was honest - usually, beheadings were a quick and often underwhelming affair, compared to the more creative means of execution.

He discreetly banished the sword into a corner - it would be mortifying if Potters friends accidentally nicked themselves on his watch while trying to treat the boy’s wound. Speaking of, was his scar smoking?

“Ah, of course! The connection!” He smiled.

Granger turned to him. “What?”

“With Voldemort’s soul gone, the soul bond expired as well. That’s naturally a rather painful process,” he explained. Snape had mentioned some drivel about Potter being an accidentally created Horcrux. As if you could accidentally create a Horcrux! It was clearly a deception invented by Albus to make the Dark Lord hesitate to kill the boy.

“But will he be OK?”

“Oh, yes. Head wounds bleed a lot, but such shallow cuts are rarely fatal.”

She didn’t look reassured, but she was a witch; overly emotional. In a few weeks, Potter would be laughing about this. Gellert shook his head and watched as they tried to still the bleeding before feeding the kid a Blood-Replenishing Potion.

It was done. He had executed Albus’s last order. And Albus’s last enemy. The kid was safe. The country was safe. The school was safe.

All was well.

Until the door opened and Hans stepped inside. “Meister Grindelwald! We’ve just received the news! France has declared war on Britain and Prussia!”

“What?”

*****​

 

Chapter 7: Misunderstandings

Hogwarts, September 16th, 1997

Back in Albus’s office - international crises couldn’t be dealt with in the middle of a school hallway - Gellert Grindelwald faced Hans. “What are the French thinking? Why would they declare war on Britain and Prussia?” They couldn’t be itching for a war, could they? The Battle of The Burrow and Diagon Alley’s rout should have been enough for some time.

Hans nodded. “Meister Grindelwald, this is merely speculation, but I think they feel threatened, what with you controlling both Britain and Prussia.”

“What?” Gellert blinked. “That’s ridiculous! And wrong. Britain is ruled by Mr Weasley, and he certainly has nothing against the French. His heir even married a French witch!” You didn’t have to go that far for good relations with your neighbour. Especially if you had the sea between you and the French. And the witch obviously hadn’t managed to reach the Duc d’Orléans to clear up this misunderstanding. He shook his head. “And Prussia is ruled by Chancellor Whatshisname, Steiner!”

Hans coughed, which was a very bad sign.

“What?” He glared at his friend.

“Ah, Chancellor Steiner has been… replaced, Meister Grindelwald.”

“Replaced? By whom?” What hadn’t he been informed about this? Sure, he had been busy with Voldemort, but a wizard liked to be informed about changes in his home country.

“By you, Meister Grindelwald.” Hans stood at attention.

“What? How can I have conquered Prussia without knowing?” He blinked. “That wasn’t what I meant when I told Katrina to clear up things in Prussia!” And really, how far had his home country fallen if a single witch and her recruits managed to conquer it? He didn’t exactly expect Prussians to be as stubborn as French, but a little more resistance would have been nice. Next, they would make jokes about how you could conquer Prussia by accident!

Hans coughed again. “I think she felt that with you taking over Britain, she should follow your example.”

Gellert sank into Albus’s comforting chair. Of all the things Katrina could have done to show initiative, she had to choose this! “Ah well, with us in charge of Prussia, at least there, things are under control. So, that leaves us free to focus on straightening out things with the French before they launch an invasion.”

Hans nodded. “Jawohl, Meister Grindelwald. The available forces under Katrina’s command should be more than enough to hold the line against the Poles and French.”

“What about the Poles? I thought only the French had declared war.”

“Poland entered an alliance with France two days ago, Meister Grindelwald. The information wasn’t available in Britain until now.”

Gellert sighed. Now that he thought about it, The Quibbler’s international news section had been rather slim lately - since the magazine had replaced the Daily Prophet as Britain’s main newspaper. Apparently, Lovegood was like Shacklebolt and needed a crisis to thrive. Well, they had a crisis on their hands right now!

He glanced back at Albus’s portrait behind him. If only it would wake up so he could talk to it. He was rather certain that conquering Prussia hadn’t been part of Albus’s plan. On the other hand, it wasn’t as if Albus would have told his portrait, left hanging in a school under his enemies’ control, anything truly important. But a little moral support would have been nice. He couldn’t do everything by himself.

“Hans, gather everyone in my command room! Everyone important, that is.” You had to be clear when giving orders to Hans. “We’ll need a plan to deal with this.”

*****​

The Burrow, Ottery St Catchpole, Devon, September 16th, 1997

“You shouldn’t be here, Harry! You should be resting!”

“I’m fine,” Harry Potter lied and clenched his teeth. His head was sporting a bandage to still the bleeding from his scar, and his temples throbbed with pain. But this was too important to sit out. Besides, Hans had insisted he’d attend, and the old Storm Wizard looked ready to drag him by his ankles from Hogwarts to The Burrow if Harry didn’t want to come. And one glare had been enough to convince Ron and Ginny that they shouldn’t try to come along - Hans’s training method had left an impression that would probably last a while yet. Though it made him wonder - and worry, a little - why Hermione was ordered to attend this meeting.

Hermione huffed. “If you collapse and open your wound, don’t blame me!”

“I won’t,” Harry said. “Promise.”

She narrowed her eyes at him. “You won’t collapse, or you won’t blame me?”

He grinned. “Neither, trust me.” The pain wasn’t that bad. And the command room had chairs. He’d be fine.

Unfortunately, the command room was also filled to capacity, Harry realised as he entered with Hermione. Mr Weasley, Percy, Fleur, Bill, Grindelwald, of course, Hans - glaring at Harry, probably because he was among the last to enter, as it seemed - Luna, who was waving at him, all the Storm Wizard section leaders and… was that Dumbledore’s portrait, on that chair? Dumbledore’s sleeping portrait?

He had a bad feeling about this.

“Let’s go sit with Luna. She can fill us in,” Hermione whispered and started to drag him towards their friend.

Harry’s bad feeling intensified.

*****​

“...and Daddy said that the invasion of Gringotts was the onion that broke the Snorkack’s back. If you want answers, you need to follow the money, as every good reporter knows, and Gringotts is all about money. Conquering Britain wasn’t important - no one cared when Voldemort did it - and not even Daddy knew about the takeover of Prussia, but Gringotts? That made international news,” Luna whispered, then nodded sagely. “And that’s why the French are going to war: They are paid by the dwarves, who will not tolerate anyone else defeating their hereditary enemies, the goblins.” She beamed at them. “It’ll be covered in detail in tomorrow’s edition of The Quibbler. By Daddy, of course - my duty is clear: Where’s a war, there’s embedded journalist Luna Lovegood!”

Harry wasn’t certain if his headache had grown worse from Luna’s explanation. He was very glad that Hermione had conjured a seat for him. He glanced at the witch, but she was scribbling on her notepad.

He was about to ask her what she was writing when Grindelwald stood and cleared his throat. The whole room fell silent at once - the wizard was frowning and was obviously upset. And when Grindelwald was upset, it paid not to draw his attention, much less his ire.

“France has, in the erroneous assumption that I’ve conquered Britain and Prussia, declared war on both countries. Poland, France’s ally, has done likewise. That’s not much of a concern for us, though, since they’ll be busy with Prussia. Now, how can we sort this mess out without fighting another war?” He looked around. “Mrs Weasley, as the resident French person, you’re our expert.”

Harry saw Fleur pale, and Bill lean towards her and hold her hand. “Ah… Je ne sais… I don’t know. I travelled to ze Cour, to tell ze Duc that you didn’t intend to invade Britain or France, but ’e didn’t believe me. ’E even told me that I would be considered a traitor, should I return to Britain. I think that I would have been arrested if Arthur ’adn’t made me an envoy.” She sniffled. “I fear that war is unavoidable.”

“We’ve appealed to the ICW to mediate, but they claim that this didn’t fall into their jurisdiction unless the Statute of Secrecy was endangered,” Mr Weasley added.

“A radical proposal. We’ll have to table it as long as we have alternatives,” Grindelwald said.

“Err, it wasn’t a proposal,” Mr Weasley said.

“Don’t worry - I know what you meant,” Grindelwald replied with a smile, that, as far as Harry could tell, didn’t reassure Mr Weasley in the slightest. “Any other ideas about how to solve this?”

Hermione raised her hand.

“Yes, Miss Granger?” Grindelwald held up a hand. “For those who don’t know her, she’s our resident expert on muggleborn matters and propaganda.”

That was news to Harry. And not good news.

“If the French want a war, let’s give them a war!” Harry’s friend spat. “They’ve supported Voldemort’s regime, they’ve threatened Prussia, and they are oppressing muggleborns in their country. They’re an absolutist monarchy in this day and age! The French muggleborns won’t die for their pureblood rulers - they will turn on them as soon as they see a chance to take control of their own country! The French won’t stop until they’re defeated, and the sooner we start with that, the sooner we can put this behind us!” She pounded her armrest with her fist. “Let’s invade them and liberate Magical France from the oppressive grip of its pureblood aristocracy!”

Harry closed his eyes as his headache grew even worse.

*****​

Gellert Grindelwald wondered - silently, of course - why every important wizard seemed to have a fanatic witch at their side. Katrina, for all her loyalty, was a little too eager to advance his cause as she saw fit, as she had recently demonstrated by her unapproved takeover of Prussia. Voldemort had had that weird crazy one, apparently a rather unhinged but very skilled dark witch. Potter had Granger. And Albus had… well, McGonagall probably counted. She certainly seemed obsessed with occupying Albus’s office. Four important wizards, four slightly unhinged witches. That couldn’t be a coincidence.

Ah, well, he had to ponder that mystery another time - there was an international crisis to solve. “Hans!”

“Hier, Meister Grindelwald!”

“What’s the military situation?”

“While we lack exact information on the size and composition of the French forces,” Hans said, glaring at the French Weasley - had she been sent as a spy as well as an envoy? Grindelwald didn’t remember mentioning it, but Mr Weasley could have done that; it was his country that was threatened, after all - “we can safely say that the Storm Wizards are more skilled than the French, as the recent engagements have proven.”

Well, Gellert already knew that. Skill and discipline beat sheer bravery; everyone but the French was aware of that.

“Given our recent recruitment numbers, a pincer attack from Britain and Prussia, coupled with uprisings by the French muggleborns and a decapitation attack on the French Court, will see us in control over all important areas of Magical France in a week or two.”

Gellert hadn’t asked for an invasion plan. All he had wanted to know was whether or not the French could invade Britain and Prussia. But it was only logical that if you could invade your enemy and defeat them, they couldn’t do the same to you. So, there was no need to reveal the misunderstanding. “I see.”

“We can move within a day, a week if you want to finish training the latest recruits, Meister Grindelwald,” Hans said with a rather eager expression.

“Using muggle transport, we can strike into the heart of France undetected.” Granger’s expression left no doubt that she was already contemplating how best to raze Chateau d’Orléans. Witches were simply too emotional for war. Or for diplomacy.

“Give the word, Meister, and we’ll smash your enemies!”

“And free the muggleborns!”

He suppressed a sigh. For someone educated by Albus, the witch was rather bloodthirsty. But then, Albus, as his plans had shown, had grown rather radical in his old age. Still, Gellert was certain that Albus wouldn’t want him to invade France. He shook his head. “No, there will be no invasion. There is no reason to fight a war over a misunderstanding. I will personally travel to France to meet the Duc and clear this up.”

“But Meister Grindelwald!” Hans gasped. “This could be a trap!”

He held up a hand. “Don’t worry, Hans, I will not travel alone, but with a suitable escort, large enough to deter the Duc from attempting any underhanded means. See to that.”

“Jawohl, Meister Grindelwald!”

Gellert smiled. They would talk this out, just as Albus would have wanted.

“Oh, and someone please check with Katrina what exactly happened in Prussia.” Her reports had been concise, but scant on details.

*****​

Château d’Orléans, Île-de-France, Magical France, September 18th, 1997

“A misunderstanding?”

Gellert Grindelwald nodded, smiling widely. Finally, the Duc d’Orléans seemed to have understood him. Progress!

“A misunderstanding?”

Or not. Maybe he didn’t understand Englisch? Or German? But he was speaking English…

“You slaughtered my Gendarmes! You decimated my Guard! You destroyed my château! You stunned my wife and broke my wand! And you say this is a misunderstanding?”

Well, there was no need to yell - unlike the Duc’s ears, Gellert’s were working fine. “Yes. I have no intention to invade France or hurt anyone of your subjects. It was all a simple misunderstanding, you see? I had to fight Voldemort, but he had taken over Britain, so...”

“YOU DID INVADE MY COUNTRY!”

Gellert was tempted to cast a Silencing Charm, but that would make it even harder to understand each other. And understanding each other, as Albus had been fond of saying, was the ground upon which peace and cooperation grew. And love, but Gellert wasn’t interested in the Duc that way.

He cleared his throat and explained. “Well, there might be some superficial similarities to an invasion, I’ll admit that.” The suitable escort Hans had selected had been a little on the large size - but as events had proven, he had needed every wand when the French attacked. And yes, he had had to fight his way through a number of misguided Gendarmes and the Ducal Guard to finally see the Duc, and things got a little out of hand, but Albus had always said that even if you had to go to great lengths and make some sacrifices, it was worth it if it meant you could talk things out peacefully. Gellert had done nothing more than following Albus’s wise counsel, although most of the sacrifices had happened on the French side.

That wasn’t his fault, though. The Duc could have told them to let him through so they could talk like civilised wizards. It wasn’t as if either of them were American, after all. Or Swiss Germans. Good fighters, but they barely understood and certainly couldn’t speak German. Gellert had needed a Bavarian translator to talk to them last time.

“‘Superficial similarities’?”

Did the Duc have to repeat everything? They weren’t at school. “Exactly! I didn’t come to invade, but to talk to you to avoid an invasion.” He hadn’t launched the attack from Prussia, after all.

“You invaded my country to avoid invading my country?”

If the Duc put it like that, it did sound a little strange. But then, Albus had been very clear about politics - or politicians? It probably didn’t really matter - seldom making much sense, and that would certainly apply to international politics as well. So Gellert nodded. “Yes. I’m glad we could clear this up. I would have loathed invading France just because of a misunderstanding.” Even though he also loathed to leave anything unfinished, and he had never conquered France the last time he had been in the country.

The Duc started to laugh. And laughed. And laughed.

Gellert smiled. The Duc had to be really relieved that this wasn’t an invasion. But the Duc didn’t seem to have any intention to stop laughing - he was kneeling on the floor, despite all the dust from the hole in the wall covering the carpet, not even paying attention to Gellert any more. How rude to leave a guest waiting like this! Gellert had more things to worry about than France.

Maybe he should fix the hole in the wall as a gesture of goodwill while he waited? And the roof? The door? He couldn’t do anything about the Duc’s wand, but he could wake up the Duc’s wife… no, better not. Witches were so emotional, she would probably have a breakdown before the Duc could explain the situation. Or she would attack Gellert again - she was French after all - and he would have to stun her again.

He sighed, then blinked. What was that noise? Was someone yelling? He walked to the hole in the wall and peered outside. The gardens were filling with witches and wizards. Civilians, as far as he could tell. And French ones. But why were they yelling about a ‘republic’? What was that, anyway?

*****​

Harry Potter closed his eyes and held up a hand as he found his friends and nominal subordinates. “Don’t tell me, I’ll guess: You are saving priceless pieces of art, furniture and books before they run the risk of getting destroyed in the fighting.”

“Wow, you’re good! That’s exactly what we’re doing! We couldn’t be acquiring supplies for the war since we’re not at war, you see?”

“Thank you, Luna,” Harry said.

“Pleasure!” she chirped, then continued to shrink and pack up what looked like the Duc’s collection of golden eggs.

“I saved you a crate of the best wine we found,” Ron said, “but you’ll have to pick up your own loot - I don’t know what you’d prefer. Although I wouldn’t worry about furniture - Ginny’s got a whole trunk full of it, enough to furnish an entire house.”

Harry clenched his teeth. “We’ve fought our way through the Ducal guard so Grindelwald can stop this war, and you’re looting the Duc’s house?”

“We’ve left perfectly fine copies,” Hermione said. “For the books, anyway. Books are meant to be read, and the library was covered in dust. Honestly, they should be grateful we’re leaving copies at all - that’s no way to treat valuable books!”

“I think the library was covered in dust because we’ve blown a hole in the wall,” Ginny said. “Harry!”

Harry would have appreciated her support more if his girlfriend didn’t have to drop a rather heavy bag - filled with shrunken trunks, as far as he could tell - to hug him.

Hermione sniffed. “They should have had cast spells to protect the books against such an event. It was simply reckless to assume that the walls would hold. The Hogwarts library is far better protected.”

Harry narrowed his eyes at her. “You didn’t loot that one, did you?”

She gasped. “Certainly not! Who do you think I am? Madam Pince would never forgive me!”

“And she couldn’t crack the protection against Doubling Charms,” Ron said, earning himself a glare.

“Cheer up, Harry,” Ginny said. “With the mob gathering outside, I doubt anyone will notice a few missing pieces of furniture or books.” Her definition of ‘a few’ certainly was generous.

“Or wine and jewellery,” Ron added.

That they probably wouldn’t get caught wasn’t the point, in Harry’s opinion. His friends shouldn’t be looting in the first place… “Mob?”

Luna nodded. “Yes! The French muggleborns have chosen today to topple the autocratic pureblood regime and install a democracy! Imagine - instead of covering a boring diplomatic talk, I get to report on a historic event! The first revolution in Magical Europe since Grindelwald’s coup in Prussia!”

This sounded far too familiar to Harry. He narrowed his eyes at Hermione. She couldn’t have...

She had the grace to blush. “I was merely facilitating our mission by organising a distraction for the Gendarmes. And educating the muggleborns of their rights and of the actual state of Britain and Prussia.”

She had. He sighed. Compared to inciting a muggleborn revolution, looting the Château would appear like a minor issue. And all had technically happened under his command!

“So, do you want the wine?” Ron asked. “Otherwise, I’ll send it to Mum as an early Christmas gift.”

Harry certainly could use some alcohol.

“Yes, hand it over. And then we leave the château and will never speak of this again!”

“Does that mean I can’t use this for my articles?”

Lots of alcohol.

*****​

Ah, the people outside were muggleborns starting a revolution! Gellert Grindelwald nodded. That explained the ‘republic’ - certainly a muggle term. Or an American term - they had some republics over there, at least there were some the last time he had read up on the political situation in the New World. The American wizarding enclaves tended to change a lot due to all the wars in the northern parts.

Well, neither American politics nor internal issues of the French were his concern. The Duc could sort this out - provided he’d stop laughing any time soon. Really, Gellert certainly wouldn’t be laughing if a mob were storming his stronghold - unless he had prepared a trap for them - but that was the Duc’s business, not his.

He was needed in Prussia, to straighten out the issues there. Whatever they were - he still wasn’t quite certain what exactly had happened there, other than that his banner was flying over the Chancellery of Magical Prussia.

Just as it been so many years ago. Those were the days. Bad days, of course, filled with his mistakes, but not completely without appeal.

Gellert smiled as he mounted his broom and left the château through the window as the first revolutionaries entered the main wing. With this crisis taken care off, it was time to head to Prussia!

*****​

Chancellery of Magical Prussia, Berlin, Germany, September 19th, 1997

“Meister Grindelwald! Prussia is yours!”

“Yes, so I heard.” Gellert Grindelwald didn’t bother to hide his sarcasm - Katrina would either ignore or miss it; he hadn’t yet found out which was the case.

“And here are the heads of those who dared to usurp your rightful position!” The witch smiled widely as she summoned a chest. A rather large chest. “Steiner and his entire cabinet have been punished for their crimes against you!”

“Rather excessively, I gather,” Gellert commented. Some of them probably hadn’t even been born yet when he was defeated.

Katrina gasped. “Oh, no!”

Gellert looked up. Did she understand that she had gone too far - once again - in her zeal? Maybe she, too, had grown wiser and more understanding in the decades since his duel with Albus.

She shook her head. “I had them summarily executed by beheading - I foolishly didn’t anticipate that you wished them to suffer more. Forgive me, Meister!”

Gellert grimaced. “It’s alright. In fact, it would be very unfair to torture anyone else to death now, so we won’t be doing that, right?”

“As you command, Meister!”

Gellert sighed. Katrina must have heard about Hans beheading the British Minister and just had had to outdo her rival. As usual. At least they didn’t compete in burning down villages any more. That had been a messy month in 1942. But now Hans would want to outdo Katrina.

Gellert glanced at his friend. Yes, he knew that expression. He had to ensure that Hans was kept busy training new recruits or the wizard would probably go and kill the Ottoman Sultan. Or the Czar of Magical Russia. Or the Duc - no, the French had beheaded that one themselves. Even the French muggleborns were so… French.

Well, they weren’t his problems any more. Unless they allied with him. He winced. Anything but that. Having a bunch of French wizards among his followers would make dealing with Katrina look easy.

But everyone was looking at him, so he better had to say something that didn’t make him look like he hadn’t been paying attention. “What’s the status of Prussia?”

Katrina beamed and pushed out her chest. “I am proud to report that recruitment exceeds expectations! We’ll soon have enough Storm Wizards available to keep France occupied and invade Poland without exposing our borders to Austrian-Hungarian or Scandinavian attacks!”

Gellert blinked. “Are we at war with Austria-Hungary or the Scandinavians?” He hadn’t heard anything about that, but then, he hadn’t heard about his takeover of Prussia either.

“Not yet, Meister. They might still see reason and join us peacefully.”

“Join us…” Gellert shook his head. This was getting out of hand. This had gotten out of hand long ago! What had he been thinking, letting Katrina stay in Prussia? He should have taken her with him and had Hans stay here. Of course, Hans would have pressed every Prussian wizard and witch above seventeen into Gellert’s service by now and would have turned half of them into utterly loyal Storm Wizards ready to die on his command, but at least he wouldn’t have been starting wars.

He had to solve this mess, and quickly. He took a deep breath. “We cannot spread us too thin, my dear Katrina. We’re still at war with Poland, aren’t we?”

“Jawohl, Meister Grindelwald!” Katrina nodded sharply. “They have probed our eastern borders but so far haven’t been able to secure any territory.”

Well, it wasn’t as if there were much territory to be taken. Most was muggle Poland, after all. “So, we’ll have to focus on ending that war, before we engage in other adventures.”

“Will we be talking this out with the Księżna?” Hans asked.

Gellert shook his head. “No, I don’t think she will be as reasonable as the Duc.” The Polish leader was a witch, after all. “We will have to beat her forces in the field before we can engage talks to end this senseless war. Katrina, this will be your task: Secure our borders. Without annexing Polish territory, though.”

“Yes, Meister Grindelwald.” She nodded, then ducked here had a little. “Not even when the opportunity presents itself?”

“Especially not then,” Gellert said as firmly as he could. “We have been dragged into too many conflicts due to a series of unfortunate misunderstandings, and so we need to show Europe that we’re not planning to conquer the other countries.”

Katrina stared at him as if he had been speaking French - she looked utterly lost. Like McGonagall when he had told her that Albus’s office would become a memorial for the greatest wizard who had ever walked this earth and that she would need to find other accommodations for her deputy. How to explain that he had changed so she could understand… He took a deep breath. “Fifty years ago, we tried to conquer all of Europe. We were stopped in France and defeated when all of Europe - the parts we weren’t occupying - allied against us. We would be foolish to repeat that mistake. Today, Britain is a staunch ally, and in France, the muggleborn have risen and taken control of the country. Do you see why we aren’t trying to conquer other countries any more?”

She blinked, then gasped. “Of course! When we attacked a country with the intent to invade and conquer, we drove them to close ranks - even many muggleborns chose their country over our movement!”

Well, pushing an ‘all wizards are equals and far superior to muggle animals’ policy probably had alienated a number of muggleborns as well, seeing as not many liked to hear such talk about their family. But hindsight was always 20/20 - whatever that meant.

Gellert nodded. “Exactly. In our zeal to unite Europe under our banner, we united it against our banner.” And laid waste to much of it.

“But by using local groups as fronts to start revolutions and supporting them, we turn the other countries into our allies, and anyone who wants to stop us will be seen as the aggressor! Ingenious, Meister Grindelwald!” Katrina beamed at him. “Europe will be yours!”

“Ah…” Well, that wasn’t exactly what he had meant, but at least Katrina wouldn’t conquer any other country any more. He nodded. “Now go and secure peace in the east for us!”

“Yes, Meister Grindelwald!” She saluted.

“And send the new Chancellor to me. I need to talk about our internal policies.”

“New Chancellor?” Again that lost look.

“Who’s running the country right now?” Gellert asked. Someone had to be, hadn’t they?

“You are, Meister Grindelwald!”

He was? Why hadn’t anyone told him that? And why hadn’t anyone asked him if he wanted to run a country in the first place? That wasn’t what he had broken out of his cell for! He had to dump that on someone before everyone got used to the idea that he was their Chancellor. But he didn’t know anyone like Mr Weasley in Prussia. Everyone he knew was a Storm Wizard. Or dead. Or an enemy.

What to do? And both Hans and Katrina were staring at him again. He had to find a solution, and quickly. Or at least something that sounded wise or cryptic. What would Albus do? Wait… Democracy. That was the solution! In a democracy, people chose their leaders. He might not know who would be a good Chancellor, but the Prussians certainly would have an idea at least. He’d have to turn Prussia into a democracy.

But he had no idea how. Albus had told him about that thing often, but it had sounded so weird and boring. Voting, and elections… everything sounded so muggle.

Hans and Katrina were glancing at each other. He had to say something.

Granger! She was a muggleborn, and Albus had said that muggle Britain was a democracy. Or something close to it. She would know what to do. He nodded. “Send for Miss Granger. I have a task for her.”

*****​

Alte Strasse, Berlin, Germany, September 19th, 1997

“You what?” Harry Potter must have misunderstood his friend. He leaned forward on the table in the street café around which all his friends had gathered.

Hermione beamed at him. “I’m acting Chancellor of Magical Prussia!”

So, he had understood her correctly the first time. “How did that happen?”

“Grindelwald told me to turn Magical Prussia into a democracy, and I said I’d need more authority than being an advisor for that. So he made me acting Chancellor.” Hermione sighed. “It’s a dream come true - I’ll be at the forefront of the democratic movement in Magical Europe!”

“Ah.” Grindelwald obviously had issues. Hermione was a great witch, a loyal friend, probably a genius, but she was seventeen years old - until tomorrow - and, as far as Harry knew, didn’t speak German that well. He didn’t know who would be a worse choice to lead Magical Prussia in the middle of a war - Hermione, or a wizard who thought she was the best choice. Not that he would tell her that. She was obviously too happy about this.

And she might overreact to criticism. With her wand.

“I’ll expect to have an exclusive on your first interview!” Luna said.

“Of course!” Hermione smiled. “I’ll also have a press statement ready tomorrow.”

He cleared his throat. “So, you’ll not join us when we’re going to the border to push back the Poles until they make peace?”

She frowned. “I wish I could. I hate not doing my part in the war. But this is more important.”

“Don’t worry,” Ron said, wrapping his arm around her. “You’re doing your part running the country. And we’ll loot any book we find for you! I mean, we’ll save any book we find.”

“Thank you!” She hugged Ron.

Harry sighed and glanced at Ginny with a rueful smile. Ron was not objective, but Ginny would certainly realise how crazy this situation was.

Or, he thought as she smiled and leaned over to hug him, she would misunderstand his glance.

*****​

Near Olsztyn, Olsztyn Voivodeship, Poland, September 25th, 1997

“More Uhlans, six o’clock!”

Harry Potter cursed and turned his Firebolt around when he heard Ginny. How many Uhlans did Magical Poland have to send against them? That was the third group this morning. “Follow me!” he yelled at her when he flew past her.

He didn’t have to glance back to know that she was falling into formation to cover him as he flew towards the approaching Polish flyers. He did it anyway, just to catch a glimpse of her. You never knew what could happen in the air.

Ginny looked great on the broom, with her hair flying in the wind. “Where’s Ron and Luna?” she yelled.

“They should be east of us,” Harry yelled back. He had used his enchanted mirror to signal Ron but hadn’t received an answer. If his friend was looting the countryside instead of paying attention, they would have words!

There were three Uhlans. The Polish Uhlans still flew in groups of three, forming an inverted ‘V’. The Prussians flew in finger formations - four per formation, split into two groups of two. Both had advantages and disadvantages, but overall, Harry thought the finger-formation was superior. The Uhlans, especially the inexperienced ones, often spent too much time trying to stay in formations rather than trying to hit their enemies.

Which usually cost them dearly.

The Uhlans ahead of them didn’t look experienced - the formation was too neat, too rigid as they turned towards Harry and Ginny. And they started to cast far too early, further reducing their effectiveness.

Harry rolled and pulled up, ignoring the curses that passed below him as he rapidly climbed. They tried to match him, but their brooms couldn’t keep up. And now Harry and Ginny were above them, with the sun at their back.

Harry banked left and entered a dive, aiming straight at the enemy leader. The Uhlan was brave, holding his course, not trying to evade, but his spells were still going wide. Harry rolled to the side, just enough to avoid a collision, and nailed the Polish flyer with a Bludgeoning Curse to the chest at point-blank range. The man’s shield shattered, as did his ribs, and he was thrown off his broom as Harry passed the other two Uhlans, continuing his dive.

No, the other Uhlan - Ginny had cut the second Uhlan’s broom in two with a well-aimed curse, sending him to the ground in a flailing, screaming tangle of limbs and broom parts. The third Uhland turned and tried to dive after them, but just as he was slowing down at the apex of his turn, Ron appeared from below, Luna close behind, and blew him out of the sky with a Reductor Curse.

That was the third group they had seen on today’s patrol, and the third group they had blown out of the sky. Magical Poland couldn’t afford those losses much longer. They couldn’t afford them, period, in Harry’s opinion. He just hoped that the Księżna would realise that too, and soon.

He and his friends reformed into a finger formation a mile away. “Nice shot,” Harry told Ron.

“Thanks!” Ron smiled. “Do you think their brooms survived the crash?”

“I cut one apart, but the others looked alright to me,” Ginny said. “But they weren’t high-quality brooms.”

“I guess we can skip the recovery then,” Ron said. “Return to base?”

Sometimes Harry still despaired at his friends’ penchant for looting. But he had stopped nagging them about it. It was pointless. At least they didn’t let it affect their combat effectiveness.

And they gave him his cut.

*****​

Chancellery of Magical Prussia, Berlin, Germany, October 20th, 1997

“Meister Grindelwald! The border in the East is secure! Peace reigns over all of Prussia!” Katrina saluted with obvious pride.

“Indeed. We fought hard, but we achieved our goals.” Gellert nodded, relieved that that mess was finally over. Without having to strike at Warsaw, even. But he had to spend a week talking to that obnoxious witch ruling Magical Poland until the Księżna had finally agreed to end the war. For a country with half their forces killed, Poland had proven to be remarkably stubborn. Like the French.

Of course, his original proposal - return to the status quo ante - would have been accepted in a moment, but Granger, representing Prussia, had had to modify it to include reforms granting the Polish muggleborns equal rights as purebloods. Gellert still didn’t quite understand why the Księżna had been so opposed to that. With half their purebloods dead in the field, the Polish should have been happy to get more wizards trained and schooled - Russia had been paying attention to the war, after all, and you couldn’t afford to look weak to them.

Well, Russia at least wasn’t a problem for him. And Granger had been handling Prussia well enough. It seemed that removing the cabinet had greatly improved the efficiency of the Prussian Ministry. General elections - which were simply elections, as far as Gellert understood, where everyone could take part - were scheduled for November 1st. After that, Prussia could govern itself.

Gellert smiled as he entered his office - formerly belonging to the Chancellor; Granger had taken over the office of the Minister for the Interior. Peace at last after listening for a week to that infernal Polish witch!

He stopped. Had he gotten lost? Taken a wrong turn? He quickly checked. No, this was his office. But why was his desk covered with parchment and letters? “Granger!” he bellowed. Handling that was her task!

“Yes, Meister Grindelwald?” She somehow managed to sound both respectful as well as implying that she had better things to do than attend to him.

He pointed at his desk. “Why are there letters on my desk? You’re the acting Chancellor; those should be on your desk!”

She smiled. “Oh, those are letters personally addressed to you, not to the Prussian government.”

“What?” He shook his head. “I thought we had a secretary to answer all the mail.” He certainly couldn’t be bothered answering every letter begging him to come and kill some nasty teacher or unfair player.

“We have. Those are the letters that Mark cannot handle since they require your personal attention.”

“What? What kind of letters could that be?”

“I haven’t read them, but as far as I know, they include missives from the ICW, Magical Scandinavia, House Habsburg, the Sultan of the Magical Ottoman Empire and the new President of Magical France. Among others.” Granger said.

That was… Gellert barely noticed how she bowed and left him as he stared at the mail. What was going on? For fifty years, Albus had been the only to care about him, and now everyone wanted to bother him?

He picked up a letter at random. Durmstrang informing him that they were now accepting muggleborn students. Why did they think he wanted to know that? He had finished school almost a century ago, and he hadn’t any grandchildren to send to school! And what was that about wishing to discuss further reforms with him? Was he a teacher like Albus? No, he wasn’t!

He dropped the letter and grabbed another. Magical Scandinavia inviting him to discuss the werewolf question. What werewolf question? He was neither a Healer nor a Curse-Breaker!

The next letter all but blamed him for rioting golems in Prague. He had never used golems. Inferi were far cheaper to make and less temperamental.

And this… he stared. The ICW informing him that he had been nominated for the post of Supreme Mugwump?

Gellert sank into his chair. This was a nightmare. Those people were crazy! Didn’t they understand that all he wanted was to fulfil Albus’s last wishes and execute his love’s plan? He hadn’t broken out of prison to rule anything! He had changed! He had become good!

Why couldn’t they see this?

No, the question was: How could he escape this trap before he went crazy - or, much worse, fell back into his old, evil habits, and betrayed Albus’s memory and lessons?

He rubbed his forehead. His work was done. Albus’s plan had been completed. Voldemort was dead. His love avenged. Britain saved.

He took a few deep breaths. He had done what he had set out to do. And he had stayed true to his love’s teachings. He would have to keep that in mind and let Albus’s wisdom guide him.

Hadn’t Albus told him once that the hardest, but most important thing was letting go? He didn’t remember in which context Albus had said that, but it certainly seemed to fit his predicament. Those people certainly needed to learn to let him go!

They wouldn’t, though. Not Hans, not Katrina, probably not Granger, and the last time he had talked to Potter, the boy had been whining about looting, of all things - as if that wasn’t normal in any war - so Potter would probably be bothering him about that soon enough.

No, they wouldn’t let him go.

But they wouldn’t be able to stop him either. He just had to find a location where they couldn’t bother him.

And as it happened, there was such a location where he would have his peace and quiet. Where he would be safe from all those lunatics.

He smiled.

No one would be able to bother him in Nurmengard!

*****​