HP: Night of the Wolf

"What are we even doing in a dump like this?"

"We are building our alliances, Lord Black," Gellert answered, "and paving the way for much bigger things here. The Germans are looking to expand, and it is in our best interest that they meet little resistance whilst doing so."

Orion eyed the passing muggles with distaste, shaking his head.

"What can a country like this offer?" he asked. "These people are poor, and I doubt the wizards are any better off."

"They're not," Gellert confirmed, "but we must begin laying our foundations. It may not seem like much, but it is a beneficial alliance for us. The people here have truly opened their eyes to the world around them, and it is now time that they're freed from their shackles."

Orion did not comment further and followed as Grindelwald stepped through a wall into a large atrium.

The Czechoslovakian Ministry of Magic was not a grand building.

There were no golden statues, no sparkling floors, and no wealth to be seen.

The room Orion found himself in was hewn from stone, and even the dozen or so fires that lined the walls offered little warmth.

They had barely made it a few steps into the room before they were accosted by a large man wearing white robes.

He had his wand drawn and began conversing with Gellert in a language that Orion did not understand.

After a moment, the man left, and Grindelwald nodded satisfactorily.

"What was that about?" Orion questioned.

"Our friend there has gone to sound the alarm. This place will be swarming with aurors and the like in just a minute."

"Sound the alarm?" Orion choked. "Have you gone mad?"

Gellert nodded.

"Quite," he said brightly.

True to his word, the atrium quickly began to fill with more men and women in the same robes as the first that had approached, each with their wands drawn and pointed at Orion and Grindelwald.

"Bloody hell, we're going to die!" the former groaned.

Gellert was unmoved by the disadvantage they found themselves at and waited patiently for something else to happen.

"Remain calm, Lord Black," he urged.

The one-sided stand-off continued for several moments until a flustered man dressed in black robes and sporting a large gold chain around his neck pushed his way through the crowd.

He began shouting in the same harsh language Gellert had conversed in with the first man.

"In English, Minister Horak," Grindelwald sighed. "My friend here does not understand what you are saying."

The man purpled, his jaw clenched tightly as he growled.

"I want to know what you think you are doing?"

"I'm setting you free, Minister," Gellert answered, his wand shooting upwards, and with but a turn, the Minister's neck snapped.

He collapsed lifeless to the ground, his death so sudden that not even a death rattle could be heard.

Orion expected an uproar, for both he and Gellert to be cut down where they stood, but that didn't happen. Instead, those garbed in white robes began to cheer, happy with the actions of his companion.

Grindelwald held up his hands for silence and nodded gratefully when the men and women complied.

"Now, our work truly begins," he declared. "Rid the building of those that would oppose us."

Orion could only look at the man in disbelief as the Czechoslovakian aurors left the atrium, and the sounds of screaming and spell fire followed soon after.

"They may not be many, but they're loyal, Lord Black, and that is what we need above all else," Gellert declared. "Worry not, our next target should be to your satisfaction."

"Who's the target?"

"One you need not concern yourself with, but they eagerly await their freedom. Of that, you can be certain."

(Break)

Minerva watched the dot belonging to the boy as he roamed the third-floor corridor. Although he wasn't doing anything against the rules, Tom Riddle had no business being there.

Just what was he doing?

He was walking slowly, seemingly checking out every nook and cranny of the corridor, just as she had seen him do in the dungeons, on the first, and the second floors also, but what was he looking for?

With a shake of her head, she left the room she had been allocated on the fifth floor and made her way down to where the boy was, transforming into a cat when she was only a short distance away.

She looked on as he tapped seemingly random bricks with the tip of his wand before moving onto another section where he did the same thing.

He inspected the suits of armour also and each statue he came to.

Was he looking for something?

Carefully, Minerva approached, only to find herself blinded by the beam of light that was aimed at her.

When her vision cleared, the boy stood over her, smirking.

"Watch out little cat," he warned. "You don't want to be sneaking around down here. Bad things can happen to lost little animals."

Minerva hissed as he made a sudden grab for her, the sharp claws of her stabbing into his hands and eliciting a yelp of anger from the boy.

He aimed a kick at her that she avoided, but he wasn't done.

He chased her down the length of the corridor, hissing furiously as he attempted to catch her once more, only to come to a halt as he almost bumped into Dumbledore.

"I would advise that you return to your common room," the transfiguration professor instructed firmly, "and I do hope that you were not trying to harm another student's pet."

Tom shook his head, his look of innocence not in the least bit convincing.

"We were just playing, Professor," he replied easily.

Dumbledore hummed and stepped aside.

"I will give you the benefit of the doubt this once, Tom," he returned. "Now, off you go."

Riddle gave the man a winning smile, though there was no warmth to it, and after giving Minerva a final glare, he took heed of the headmaster's advice and left the corridor.

"I would be careful with him, Minerva," Dumbledore murmured.

Minerva offered a gentle meow before she too took her leave and returned to her room.

Tom Riddle was indeed an unsettling boy, one with a proclivity towards cruelty.

Had he caught her then, she could not fathom what he would do to a helpless creature such as a cat, and she was grateful that she was much more than just her feline side.

Still, she would continue to watch the boy, and of course inform Harry of what she had seen thus far.

She deflated.

Thoughts of her friend only made her morose, the worry she felt for him unable to be ignored.

He had mentioned in his last letter that he had been injured, but with Harry being as aloof as he was, he did not go into specifics.

Instead, he had taken the time to ask after her, and to arrange a dinner between them and the rest of the Gryffindors that had graduated this year.

Minerva was looking forward to it, and more than anything, seeing for herself that Harry was okay.

She missed him, and though she treasured the letters she received, it was simply not the same as having him around her.

(Break)

"I call to order this Autumn gathering of the International Confederation of Warlocks dated November 13th, 1937," the Chief Mugwump declared, tapping the top of his podium smartly with a gavel. "I open the floor to Ivan Federov for an update from the Department of Justice."

Albus looked on interestedly as Federov stood, his gaze as severe as ever when addressing the chamber.

"Thank you, Chief Mugwump," he began, offering the Swiss a bow. "My report is mostly positive. Since July, we have apprehended twenty-nine wanted criminals hailing from eleven countries, all of whom have been tried and convicted. The native countries have been informed, and with the capture Clive Allman and his wayward goblins, the Russian branch of Gringotts have been placated."

The representatives nodded appreciatively, though the American stood, a frown marring his features.

"And what of Allman? He is a citizen of the United States of America," he pointed out. "He should be returned to face justice for his crimes there."

Federov released a deep breath but was prevented from speaking by a large Russian who stood and shook his head.

"Njet, Allman is our prisoner, and we will not surrender him," he denied. "He was captured in Russia, and he will remain there. Besides, he is in no fit state to answer for his crimes. He has become disturbed and spend his days holding what remains of his wand arm and mumbling about serpents."

The American was displeased by the news but did not protest.

Relations between the two countries were already strained and he seemingly did not wish to add to the tension.

"Very well," he conceded, "please proceed with your report Federov."

"It is like I said, it is positive for the most part, but there have been casualties, and we still have several Hit-Wizards unaccounted for," Federov explained. "Six have been confirmed as dead, and we have heard nothing from our Bulgarians. We suspect that they have been killed, but we do not know why. More recently, we have lost all contact with our Czechoslovakian agents. I do not have an explanation for this."

"That is where I may be able to help," the representative from Poland broke in. "Although I cannot confirm anything, we have received some troubling rumours from across the border. It is believed that there has been a sudden change in governance, and that Grindelwald is behind it."

Albus stiffened in his seat.

"As you can see, neither the representatives of Bulgaria nor Czechoslovakia are here, that is because they are dead," the Polish man continued. "I have it on good authority that this is true."

His word received a mixed response.

Some people evidently did not believe what they had been told, and others did, resulting in a few heated exchanges that only ceased when the Chief Mugwump bashed his gavel atop the podium several times.

"You are certain of this?" he asked the representative of Poland.

A shake of the head was the response he received.

"I trust the person who provided the information, but I cannot say for certain that it is true. However, I think the lack of representative from each is telling enough. My government fears what will come next."

The Chief Mugwump nodded severely.

"We warned you about him," the American cut in. "Ten years ago, we asked for your assistance in dealing with him, and now it seems that he has turned his attention to Europe. If you do not stop whatever it is he is doing, there will be more trouble than you can comprehend."

Silence met the warning until the representative of France broke in with a chuckle.

"This is speculation," he snorted. "there is no proof that he is behind this."

"Then it is our responsibility to verify it," the Chief Mugwump declared. "Federov, I want this looked into, and I want it done quietly. You will send teams to Bulgaria and to Czechoslovakia to compile a full report. We will reconvene behind closed doors when this has been completed. I believe this warrants us to proceed with caution."

With a final tap of his gavel, the gathering was ended, and Albus filed out of the chamber with the other members of the public that had attended, his thoughts heavy with the weight of his old friend weighing down on him.

Now it appeared that he would not even be able to keep updated on what Gellert was up to via the ICW, not unless Harry would tell him.

No, that wouldn't work.

If Harry was instructed to not discuss anything he knew, he wouldn't do so.

With the doors now closed to the public, Albus would need to find another way to gain information, and as he took his leave of the building used to host the meetings of the International Confederation of Warlocks, an idea began to form, though he suspected a certain man would be displeased to hear from him.

It had been ten years, after all, and the last time Albus had spoken with his former student, they had not parted on good terms.

However, the professor had faith that the man remained as good as he had always been and would be willing to help once more.

The fate of the wizarding world could soon very well be hanging in the balance.

(Break)

His shoulder throbbed uncomfortably as he dragged his captive through the halls of the Department of Justice in Geneva, his latest capture smoother than the first, but not having gone off without a hitch.

The Austrian he had pursued had not made it easy, having caused quite the scene in the magical district of Copenhagen where Harry had tracked him to, and as such, he'd had to make a hasty retreat when he had been set upon by a dozen or so wizards.

They had taken exception to Harry arresting an associate of theirs, but he'd managed to escape, though he'd left considerable carnage in his wake, and perhaps a few injured people.

He snorted as the prisoner continued to struggle.

The Danish would have to take it up with the ICW if they wanted to seek recompense.

Harry had done his job, and the Austrians would be very happy to receive their wanted citizen back.

"You're a dead man!" Felix Huber declared. "You have no idea who you're fucking with."

He spat on the ground, leering at Harry who merely shook his head.

"Shut up," he muttered, pleased he would soon be rid of the man, and 100 galleons richer to boot.

The gold would be wisely invested too, along with the other 375 galleons he had made in the past couple of months.

It would have been more, but he'd needed to take a few weeks off after his first venture, his shoulder taking its time to heal from the manticore venom, but it had done so, and Harry had once more learned that constant vigilance was a necessity in this line of work.

The occasional, yet less frequent ache he still felt reminded him of that.

"Felix Gruber," he declared to the auror guard that manned the desk where the Hit-Wizards were relieved of their prisoners. "Wanted in Austria for collusion, treason, and suspected of attempting to overthrow the government."

"This little shit?" the auror chuckled.

Harry nodded.

"Don't let his looks fool you, he's quite the handful."

The auror grunted as he began filling in the required paperwork.

"We will see how he fares when he's given back. According to this, the Austrians want him quite badly and even raised the price on him this morning. Take this slip next door, and you'll be paid what you're owed," he instructed.

Gratefully, Harry handed over the man and accepted the offered parchment once it had been stamped.

"Enjoy the gold, Serpent."

"Maybe in the years to come," Harry replied cryptically.

Already he'd invested his earnings in a Sneakoscope company, having done so when he realised it was the very same one that had made his own, the one that Hermione had gifted him so many years prior.

When he returned to England, he would scour The Daily Prophet once more in the hopes of finding his next big investment.

"Back again, Serpent?" Ursula questioned as he entered the next room.

She was the lady in charge of payments, friendly enough, even if she did have an unhealthy obsession with chewing gum.

Perhaps he should introduce her to Drooble's? Her custom alone would make him a fortune.

He shook his head of those thoughts as he handed the curly-haired brunette his piece of parchment.

She nodded her approval, sliding her round spectacles back up the bridge of her nose when they slipped down before beginning to count out Harry's coins.

"One-hundred and twenty-five galleons," she declared, sliding the pile towards him.

Harry placed it in a bag and offered the woman a wave before leaving, checking his watch as he did so.

He wouldn't be late.

All week he had been looking forward to meeting his friends for dinner, so much so, that he had really pushed to apprehend Huber today.

He didn't want thoughts of the man to distract him whilst spending time with them, but first, he needed to shower. It would not do to arrive in his dishevelled state.

Pleased that there were no others in the room allocated to use portkeys, Harry activated his, and immediately apparated away from Diagon Alley when he landed.

He had done this several times now, and was no longer concerned that he would splinch himself, not how Allman had at least.

He'd later learned that the aurors sent to locate his lost arm had been unable to do so, and that he would spend the remainder of his days without one.

A part of Harry had felt bad for the man for a moment, but that faded when he reminded himself that Allman would have allowed the goblins to kill him if they could.

With that, any sympathy he'd felt had vanished.

"Hello boy," he greeted Theseus, the owl barking a reply as it took flight and landed on his shoulder. "Has it been quiet?"

Theseus simply rubbed his head on Harry's neck, and seeing no other mail having arrived for him, Harry headed towards his bedroom where he prepared his clothes before showering.

When he was done, he dressed and placed his newly acquired gold in his trunk, removing enough to cover the cost of the evening ahead.

It was odd looking forward to seeing people he had only a short while ago spent every day with but having gone from that to barely seeing them at all, it was understandable.

He missed his friends and was eager to see them all again.

Checking his reflection for a final time, he disapparated to Hogsmeade and made his way to The Three Broomsticks where Charlus was waiting for him.

"Good to see you still alive, Evans," he chuckled, pulling Harry into a brief but tight embrace. "You do have some explaining to do to my mother and father. They're proud of you for what you're doing, but they're not best pleased they weren't told."

"I didn't really think of that," Harry sighed.

"Don't worry," Charlus chuckled. "I've smoothed it all over with them, well mostly. Mum still occasionally threatens to box your ears when she does see you, so I'd watch out for that. I think she was worried that I was going to follow you."

"You could you know," Harry replied with a grin. "We'd make quite a good team."

Charlus laughed and shook his head.

"Oh, we'd be amazing, but what kind of Hit-Wizard spend their life being hunted by their own mother? You're lucky she hasn't bloody well dragged you back to England and locked you in our basement."

"I wouldn't be able to do much from there," Harry mused aloud, flattered by the sentiment.

Angelica Potter was a wonderful woman, and on only the few occasions Harry had met her, had proven to be attentive and kind, if a little protective.

Harry shook his head.

She was a mother, of course she was protective, just like his own had been.

"Here comes Poppy," Charlus broke into his thoughts. "I'd be ready for a full examination from her if I were you."

"And what are you two conspiring?" she asked suspiciously as she approached.

"Nothing," Charlus denied, and though they hadn't, his tone suggested he wasn't being entirely truthful.

"Hmm," Poppy returned, her gaze shifting towards Harry. "And what about you, Evans, missing any limbs yet?"

Harry snorted.

"Not me, but one of my prisoners splinched himself and lost most of his arm."

Poppy grimaced.

"Well, you seem to be all there physically," she grumbled. "As for your mental wellbeing, I think you should be admitted to have your head looked at."

Harry smirked at the girl.

"I missed you too Poppy."

"You better had," she said pointedly. "I don't spend so much of my time worrying about you for half-arsed efforts on your part."

Harry chuckled, and waved as Tiberius appeared across the street, a beaming smile aimed at the trio.

"And here he is," Charlus declared, returning the gesture. "How's it going Ogden?"

Tiberius released a deep breath.

"Honestly, you wouldn't believe how much goes into running the breweries. My father has run me ragged, but I'm learning a lot. Hi Poppy, you look nice."

The girl looked at him expectantly and frowned when he didn't make one of his infamously inappropriate comments.

"Is that it?" she asked. "You're not going to make me curse you today?"

"I'm too tired to think of anything to say," Tiberius answered with a shrug. "Besides, it's been months since I was last cursed. It's been quite nice not having anything itch, burn or blister."

"Well, it looks as though he finally learned from all those lessons," Charlus laughed.

"We'll see," Poppy replied, her eyes narrowed at the boy. "Anyway, where's Minnie?"

"She'll be late," Harry predicted. "She's working hard, so we should start without her."

"And what about Augusta?"

"Her and Frank are already inside."

"How do you know that?" Charlus questioned. "I was here before you and didn't see them."

Harry shrugged.

"I don't know," he answered honestly.

It was as though he could feel them nearby.

"Even if they're not, they'll meet us in there too," Charlus pointed out. "Come on, I'm hungry."

Frank and Augusta were inside, the two of them not noticing the others enter.

"It makes you feel quite sick when they look at each other like that," Poppy muttered.

Tiberius nodded his agreement whilst Harry elbowed Charlus sharply in the ribs.

Following his gaze, he shook his head.

He had caught sight of Dorea Black who was sharing a meal with her brother who, luckily for Charlus, had his back to them.

The girl had a slight tinge of pink on her cheeks as she matched the stare of the Potter heir, though she remained composed other than the one giveaway.

Charlus huffed at the intrusion.

"Still got a thing for her?" Harry whispered as the group headed towards where Frank and Augusta were seated.

"Shut up Harry," Charlus said simply. "Augusta!" he greeted the girl loudly, putting an end to the short exchange.

"Hello Charlus," Augusta returned warmly, standing to wrap her arms around him briefly.

She greeted Harry, and Tiberius in the same way.

"You look happy," Poppy offered sincerely.

Augusta nodded.

"Very," she said, holding up her left hand where a modest ring rested.

"You're engaged!" she gasped.

"We are," Frank confirmed. "Our parents signed a contract for us this morning."

"Well, congratulations," Charlus broke in, clapping the former Hufflepuff on the shoulder. "Now we have to find Ogden someone that can tolerate him indefinitely then we'll be halfway there."

"And you!" Tiberius fired back.

Harry snorted and Charlus shot him a warning look.

"What about you Poppy?" Harry asked curiously.

The girl shook her head.

"I'm not in a hurry for anything like that," she explained. "I have five years of training to get through first. I want to be a healer first and foremost. Everything else will have to wait."

Harry nodded his understanding.

He didn't know if she had ever been married where he came from, or if she still was. He couldn't see how. Being the Hogwarts' healer was a full-time post.

"What about you Evans?"

Harry frowned thoughtfully.

If truth be told, he'd never pondered the prospect of marriage. The life he had led had never allowed him such frivolities, and even now he couldn't say that it was a priority.

"Maybe one day," he answered. "When I get tired of chasing criminals around."

It was a flimsy excuse at best, but he wasn't going to divulge that his life would consist of so much more than being a Hit-Wizard. War was coming, perhaps twice, and thoughts of marriage were so far from his mind.

If he was honest with himself, he didn't know if he could be content with a life without conflict of sorts. It had become as much of him as sitting down to eat breakfast.

"Good luck with that," Charlus laughed. "If you're not married within a few years, my mum will probably try to fix you up with someone. She's a pureblood," he added. "She can't understand that some people don't get married before they're twenty."

"We'll look forward to the announcement of your marriage then," Harry quipped. "What is it, eighteen months before you turn twenty."

"Bloody hell it is!" Charlus groaned. "Whatever you do, don't remind my mother of that."

"I should write to her," Harry quipped.

"If you dare…" Charlus growled.

"Calm down," Harry placated, "I won't say a word."

Charlus nodded satisfactorily.

"Now, can we eat?" he asked.

The group took their seats and Augusta waved a waitress over who handed each of them a menu.

"Just let me know when you want to order and I'll be right back," she assured them.

"If I'm held up anymore, I might just order one of everything," Charlus mumbled, eliciting a laugh from each of the others.

After only a few moments, they were ready to place their orders, but not before they were interrupted by the arrival of Minerva who pulled Harry from his chair and wrapped her arms around him for what most would consider to be an indecent length of time.

The rest of the group looked at each other questioningly, Poppy hiding her grin.

Minerva was not an affectionate person in such ways, not unless it was directed at the young man she was clinging to.

"I'm sorry I'm late," Minerva whispered to Harry. "I was helping Albus with some marking."

"It's alright," Harry said dismissively, holding out the chair next to his own that he had saved for her.

She smiled gratefully, her eyes widening as Augusta held up her hand.

"Oh, that is wonderful!" Minerva gushed, leaving the chair she had only just occupied to get a closer look at the ring. "When did this happen?"

"Only this morning…"

"Well, that will take some time," Charlus grumbled, nodding to the girls who had put their heads together to discuss the engagement in detail.

"She's excited," Harry pointed out.

"She is," Frank chuckled. "We both are."

"And we're happy for you," Charlus replied sincerely. "If you would have told me at the end of fifth year that Augusta would have been the first of us to get married, I wouldn't have believed it."

"Me either, I thought it would have been me," Tiberius broke in. "My father has been hinting at it since I finished school."

"Any idea who he has in mind?" Charlus asked.

Tiberius shook his head.

"He hasn't mentioned much, but I did hear him say to my mother that he is in regular contact with Lord Greengrass. I can only assume that a contract with him would be for his sister. He only has two sons."

"Ah, Glenda," Charlus acknowledged. "I remember her, she was nice and only a couple of years older than us."

"She is," Tiberius agreed. "I could do much worse."

Harry snorted as he shook his head.

"It's things like this that make me glad I'm not a pureblood. I couldn't imagine being married for the sake of a contract."

"It's just how things are for us," Charlus sighed. "We've had it hammered into us from birth that we wouldn't have much say in who we marry."

"But you'd like to," Harry returned with a smirk.

Charlus scowled at him, but it was Tiberius that replied.

"We do get some say. I don't think mine or Charlus's parents would marry us to someone we despised."

"They wouldn't," Charlus confirmed, "but at the same time, ours are traditionalists for the most part. They would rather we marry a pureblood."

"What about you?" Harry asked curiously. "When you have children, would you want them to be married to a pureblood?"

Charlus frowned thoughtfully before releasing a deep breath.

"The world is changing, Harry. Muggleborns and half-bloods are integrating with society more, so when I have children, it might be more normal for them to marry whomever they wish to. For me, so long as my children are happy, the blood of their husband or wife doesn't factor into it as much as it does for my parent's generation. If they respect the history of my family then I can't see why it would bother me."

"It's the same for me," Ogden interjected. "Honestly, if any of my children met someone like you, Minnie, or Poppy, I'd have no problems with that."

"Me?" Harry asked with a chuckle.

"For a complete nutter, Evans, you're a decent bloke," Tiberius snorted, "and Charlus is right. The world is changing."

But it wouldn't for the best, not if Voldemort had anything to do with it.

The rift between the purebloods, half-bloods, and muggleborns had been considerable where he came from, and Harry could only imagine the first war started by Tom was mostly responsible if Charlus' and Tiberius's attitude were anything to go on.

"Why didn't you tell me you were injured, Evans?" Poppy's voice demanded irritably, breaking into Harry's thoughts.

"Because I already saw a healer and it's fine," Harry responded.

Poppy hummed.

"I'll be the judge of that. Show me."

Harry frowned as Minerva shot him a smug look.

She had promised him that she would be mentioning it to their trainee-healer friend.

"Fine," Harry huffed, unbuttoning the top his shirt and pulling it across to show the purple, and slightly green scar.

"What the hell is that?" Charlus questioned heatedly.

"A pickaxe wound from a goblin."

"Which is still infected," Poppy murmured as she inspected the puckered skin, "but it is healed," she added confusedly. "What type of poison was it?"

"Manticore venom," Harry sighed, expecting a lecture from the girl.

Poppy shook her head.

"If it was manticore venom, you'd be dead or without the arm unless you carry a vial of anti-venom with you."

"I have a strong resistance to poisons and venoms," Harry explained.

It turned out that Madame Morgana had been right with her assumption. The basilisk venom in his blood had nullified that of the manticore. By the time the healer had tested him, it had been completely neutralised much to the man's surprise.

"Impossible," Poppy declared. "Manticore venom is just about as deadly as they come. If you have a resistance to it, you must have survived something worse."

This was why he didn't want to tell the girl about his injury.

For one that someone would consider to be an inexperienced healer, Poppy took her role seriously. She had been studying night and day for years, and evidently, toxins, poisons, and venoms was something she was well-versed in.

"I was and it was healed quickly," Harry replied vaguely. "The healer said this is much worse than it looks but should go back to normal in a few months."

Poppy gave him a speculative look before nodding.

"I will be checking," she warned.

Harry laughed, knowing she meant what she had said but frowned as his back pocket suddenly became quite warm.

Removing his wallet, he took out his Hit-Wizard licence to see that some read lettering had appeared in the blank box below his name.

"What is it?" Minerva asked worriedly.

"I have to go," Harry sighed. "I've been summoned for an emergency meeting."

"But you only just got back," Minerva protested.

Harry nodded apologetically as he stood and placed a handful of coins on the table.

"I know. Something must have happened. We don't get summoned unless it has."

Minerva released a deep breath and gave him a sad look.

"I'll walk with you to the apparation point."

Harry offered her a smile, though it did little to brighten her mood.

"I'll write to you all," he promised the rest of the group.

"You bloody well better," Charlus huffed, "and don't leave it so long before seeing us again."

"I won't," Harry assured him as he put his coat on and took his leave of the pub with Minerva in tow.

"Do you really have to go?" she asked.

Harry nodded.

"They wouldn't summon me if I wasn't needed," he explained, "but I will be fine."

"I know," Minerva sighed. "That doesn't mean I'll stop worrying about you."

Harry didn't know what to say but drew his wand and changed his features before wrapping his arms around the girl.

"I'll be in touch soon."

"And if you're not, I'll come looking for you," Minerva warned.

"That I do not doubt," Harry chuckled, pressing his lips against her cheek.

With a final nod, he activated his portkey and was whisked away, much sooner than he would have liked.

(Break)

The Hog's Head had always been a rather dank and lifeless establishment, and little had changed since Aberforth had taken over from the former owner only a few years prior, but it was still one of the best places to meet if one sought privacy.

As ever, Albus had received a rather cold reception from his brother when he'd arrived and had been promptly shown to the private parlour he requested with little more than a grunt as a greeting.

It upset the transfiguration professor that the two of them had not been able to build bridges or establish a close sibling relationship that they once shared as boys.

The death of Ariana had changed much for the Dumbledore family, but it was Albus's friendship with Gellert that had been the true catalyst.

Aberforth had once looked up to them both, had hung on to their every word whenever Gellert would visit. Those days however, had long passed.

If there was anyone the younger sibling hated more than his brother, it was Grindelwald.

"Thank you for accepting my invitation," Albus said as his guest arrived, his expression one of caution.

"I was reluctant to, but your letter was troubling."

"Indeed," Albus acknowledged with a bow, "but there are few that have experienced his wrath the way you have."

"Not intentionally," Newt pointed out. "Does this mean that you have changed your mind?"

Albus swallowed deeply and shook his head.

"I have my reasons."

"That you are yet to share," Newt sighed. "What would you have me do Albus? For ten years you have made excuse after excuse to do nothing. Leta…"

"What happened to Ms Lestrange is a sorrow I still carry," Albus broke in. "Me involving myself will only result in more of that for many."

"So, why did you ask me here?"

"Because he has surfaced on the continent Newt. I would not ask this of you if it wasn't of the utmost importance. You know his methods, and you know what he is capable of. I merely wish for you to confirm what is happening."

"Where?"

"Czechoslovakia. That is where he was last rumoured to be."

"And what will you do with this information, Albus?"

"I will aide the ICW in any way I can."

Newt released a deep breath before he nodded his acceptance.

"This last time I will help you, but I want a promise from you that if it comes to it, you will intervene. Promise me, Albus. I do not wish for my son to grow in a world that he leads."

Albus met the somewhat awkward gaze of the man before him knowing that he would not assist him unless he made the solemn vow.

"If it becomes inevitable, if it seems that he may win, then you have my word that no matter what, I will confront him."

Newt nodded.

"Then I will help you in the hope that he will finally be brought to justice for what he did to Leta."

"Thank you, Newt," Albus offered sincerely.

Newt said nothing, choosing to take his leave instead.

The Scamanders had their own reasons for wanting to see Gellert apprehended, and Albus felt a slight twinge of guilt for taking advantage of that motivation, but it was necessary.

Gellert would know if Albus himself was there.

"For the greater good," he muttered sadly, repeating the phrase that he and Gellert had begun using so many years before when they had foolishly planned their betterment of the world, though now, it meant something else entirely to the deputy headmaster of Hogwarts.

The greater good was no longer what he had once envisioned as an idealistic teenager, but what the world already was.

As he had grown and saw it through the eyes of an educator, he realised that, though not perfect, the world they lived in was already much better than what he hand Gellert had strived for.

Albus had grown, but his former friend with his obsessive nature had not, and Dumbledore could only hope that he would be stopped before it was too late.

For many possible eventualities.

(Break)

It was into a large chamber that Harry was shown, similar in some ways to the one he had stood trial in before the beginning of his fifth year at Hogwarts only considerably bigger.

Seated upon the benches lining the walls were around thirty witches and wizards, and Federov was stood behind a podium at the front of the room.

"Please, sit here," his escort, a short, blonde French woman instructed, leading Harry to a spot where he would be seated away from anyone else.

It appeared that the other Hit-Wizards were sitting in the teams they had formed with only a few other individuals dotted around the room.

After the door had banged shut, Federov cleared his throat loudly, garnering the attention of those within the room.

"Now, you know it is not often that you are called to meet in such a way, not unless it is required by the ICW. This is one of those occasions," Federov announced grimly.

Some murmuring followed his statement, but those that spoke fell silent quickly, keen for an explanation.

"This morning, the Autumn gathering was held, and we learned that Czechoslovakia has gone through a recent and sudden change in government. We suspect that a coup was staged, and in the process of this change, many influential figures were killed including Minister Horak. As you are aware, Bulgaria had already gone through a similar affair, and the ICW believes it is time to act."

"What are we to do?" a heavily accented voice called from the opposite side of the room to Harry.

"Our instructions are firm and strict," Federov replied severely. "We are to dispatch some chosen agents to Czechoslovakia and Bulgaria. Your job is to observe and report back any findings so that we may clarify just what is happening there."

"To observe?"

Federov nodded.

"Only to observe," he reiterated. "You have all been chosen because you have proven your skill in remaining undetected."

"There's more to this," another voice declared.

It belonged to an older man that Harry had never seen, his dark grey hair matching the stone walls of the chamber.

"If you let me finish, you will know all you need to," Federov returned irritably, "but yes, there is more. It is suspected that these coups have been orchestrated by Gellert Grindelwald."

The muttering broke out once more and Harry stiffened in his seat.

"What we suspect he has done is not strictly illegal and falls under the old laws of right of conquest, but you are aware of his status. He is wanted by the government of the United States of America for his crimes there," Federov continued, speaking over the intrusion.

"So, we are to bring him in?" the older gentleman asked.

Federov released a deep breath as he shook his head.

"No, that would be too dangerous an undertaking. You are to observe only," he repeated. "However, there are others you should be aware of that we believe have aligned themselves with him. Those thirteen faces within those files should be familiar to you all, and if they're not, I would suggest you make sure they are. These are amongst the most dangerous criminals currently in Europe."

"Are we to only watch these also?"

"My instructions on this were very vague," Federov replied with a smirk. "I would urge you to assess the risk of doing so for yourselves, should the opportunity to do so arise, of course."

Harry opened the folder in front of him, nodding grimly as he took in each individual.

He had seen these photos before on the wall within the room where he chose his targets. All of these were on the most wanted list, one that he had not considered choosing from as yet.

"Each team and individual have been designated a city that they are to operate in. For the individuals, there will be a team nearby so do be aware of them whilst carrying out your work. Any questions?"

"What about gold?" a woman asked. "How long are we expected to do this?"

"You will be there for a minimum of two weeks, longer, if necessary," Federov explained, "and you will be paid five galleons a day for doing so. Anything else?"

When there were no other questions, he closed his own file.

"I cannot stress to you the importance of this. Do not fuck this up, and do not get yourselves killed. If you find yourself in trouble, there will be no official help coming. This is to be done quietly, and without detection. You are dismissed."

Harry remained in his seat for a few moments whilst the room cleared and read through the file thoroughly, taking in the features of the thirteen witches and wizards until he had them memorised.

When this was done, he burnt the file and took his leave.

He had never been to Prague before but according to his instructions, that was where he was to go.