Chapter 8: The Nurmengard Escape

29 December 1991

"How would you like to be part of the Phoenix Movement?"

Lily glanced at his drawn wand then arched a brow at Aberforth. "Do I have a choice?"

"Oh this?" The barkeep glanced at his wand. "This is just a...precaution. Nothing personal, Evans, but we like our secrecy. Wouldn't be much of a secret group if everyone knew now, would it?"

"I suppose," Lily conceded, keeping her voice carefully neutral.

"Is this really necessary, sir?" she heard Sirius ask from behind.

"First you talk my ear off for ignoring the code, now you want to ease up on protocol. Would you make up your bloody mind, Black?" Aberforth turned his attentions back to Lily. "This isn't a conversation to have out in the open. Let's take this to the cellars."

"So you can silence me away from prying eyes?" she asked with an arched brow. "Forgive me if I prefer the current scenery."

Sirius chuckled. "What prying eyes?" Lily imagined him sweeping his arms outwards, gesturing to the empty bar.

Aberforth rolled his eyes. "'Oh, Auror sir, this mudblood came into my bar and scared out my customers!'"

Lily's forehead creased and her mouth opened just a tad.

"That's what the Aurors will be hearing when they catch us. Who do you think they'll believe, you or me?"

"You were a member of the Order too!" Lily said.

"Aye, but I kept my head down afterwards. Didn't stir up a fuss, unlike you."

A retort was forming on her lips before she shut them firmly. He wasn't wrong.

"Let me put it this way, Evans," Aberforth added after a moment's quiet, "you can come with us, hear out what we have to say. Worst thing we'll do is we wipe your memory of this and throw you out. Your other option is a pleasant stay with the Ministry dogs."

Both options were bad. In the end, it boiled down to the lesser evil. Something possibly disagreeable over something positively disagreeable. "Lead on then," she said, inclining her head to the side.

"Sirius, show her the way. Got to close up here." He swished his wand about, unleashing invisible hands which wiped tables clean, stacked upturned chairs upon them and locked both window and door alike.

"Yes sir," Sirius said, walking behind the counter and heaving the hatch to what looked like the underground cellars. With a hand, he gestured for Lily to follow, even as the lights dimmed behind him. Below, Lily saw tongues of flame come to life, illuminating the descending spiral staircase.

"So what exactly is the Phoenix Movement?" she asked as they made their way through the winding stairs.

Sirius spared her a glance from over his shoulder, but continued his descent. "Do you remember the final days of the Order, Lily?"

"How could I forget?" With Albus Dumbledore's death at the hands of Voldemort, the organization was paralyzed with doubt and distrust, allowing the Dark Lord to dismantle them piecemeal..

"Without Albus Dumbledore, resistance against the regime was, is impossible."

"What about this?"

"This?" Sirius snorted. "This is nothing. Even if we kept at it for ten lifetimes and we wouldn't change a thing. It's been nearly a decade since Dumbledore lost and people...people are losing hope." Sirius shook his head. The distinct pop of fireworks was faintly heard despite their soundproofed and underground location. "We need a figure to rally behind, someone who actually stands a chance against Voldemort; someone who can match him spell for spell. We need Albus Dumbledore."

"Dumbledore's dead."

Sirius smiled at her, one she was familiar with from their Hogwarts days. "I know something you don't" it conveyed.

"He's dead," she repeated, "…isn't he?" Her heart throbbed faster, fiercer at the thought.

"Dead, Evans?" Lily turned around and saw Aberforth, the wand still visible though in a looser grip now. "That would've been a mercy for him, the Next Great Adventure and all that rot."

"Where is he?" she demanded.

"Languishing in prison." He raised his right hand to stave off her next words. "As for your other question, we're simply a group that wants to see him freed. Right bastard that he was, can't deny we need him" Aberforth gave her a look. "You going to help us, or you going to keep getting pissed on alcohol whining about the Ministry?"

What did she have to lose? She survived now, just barely, at the whims of Potter. Society as a whole branded her subpar simply because of the instances of her birth.

She nodded curtly, which came out more like an awkward jerking motion. "Count me in."

"Good." Aberforth nodded, as if expecting the answer already. "Sirius, the others?"

"They'll be here in a few minutes, sir," the dog animagus answered.

"In that case, Evans, anything to drink while we wait?" The barkeep snapped his fingers. "I know just the thing for you," he said, before Lily could say she didn't want any.

A glass of some transparent liquid was in her hand not a moment later. It was unlike any alcoholic beverage she had seen before. She tipped the glass carefully, pouring just a tad of it into her mouth to get a feel of how strong it was.

It didn't burn at all. In fact, it tasted like-

"Isn't this water?" she blurted out.

"From France," Aberforth said meaningfully. "The fancy, smug kind they put in these bottles and sell at exorbitant prices." She blinked and took a longer sip this time. "What? Did you think I'd give you more firewhiskey or something? You had enough to make a half-giant drunk and then some. Let it never be said Aberforth Dumbledore was an enabler of alcoholism."

"You're a barkeep," Lily said. "It's quite literally your job description."

"That's different," he insisted, waving his hand, "I make them pay through the nose for that."

"How long have you been planning to recruit me?"

"What makes you think it was planned?"

Her eyes narrowed into slits. "The timing of it all, it's far too convenient. You recruit me on the night you're holding a meeting?"

Aberforth shrugged. "Been considering you for a few weeks now. Would've preferred waiting a few more days before asking, but you're here now, so might as well get it over with. I figure we're going to need someone decent at Charms to break my brother out. Another wand in a fight never hurts too."

"I-"

"Ah, Dung!" Aberforth said. "Good to see you. And you brought your friend too."

"Evenin' Aberforth," Dung greeted gruffly. Lily turned around, sharing a nod with the balding Mundungus Fletcher. His eyes were constantly moving, a hint of greed behind them as they assessed everything in sight, as if he was an insurance agent valuing your home.

Next to him was a dark-skinned wizard with a no-nonsense look to him. A scar ran down across his cheek, framing his face in a grim light. It was caused by dark magic, probably; a scar made from more mundane methods would've been easily healed.

She spotted as well the brown hair of Emmeline Vance besides a young witch with a head of garish purple. "Lily? Lily Evans is that you?" Emmeline asked.

"Emmeline," Lily greeted evenly, approaching the pair.

"It's been far too long dear! I haven't seen you since…"

Since Mad Eye's funeral.

"Anywho, you remember Ted and Andromeda?" She waited for Lily to nod politely, before continuing. "This is their daughter, Dora Tonks."

Tonks extended a hand towards Lily. "Pleasure to meet you Mrs. Evans. Just call me Tonks."

Lily frowned as she shook her hand. "It's just Miss, actually."

Tonks' face flushed, something only exaggerated by her hair turning Weasley ginger.

A Metamorphmagus.

"Er, sorry, I'm not, I didn't mean to imply you were old or anything, it's just, you know, I mean-"

"I look the age?" Lily cut in, not unkindly. Tonks nodded, an abashed smile on her lips as her hair returned to eye-catching purple.

"Don't hold it against the girl," Emmeline said. "Why, when we were her age, we thought everyone above thirty was married!"

"Her age?" Lily said before turning to face Tonks. "Just how old are you?"

"Oh, uh I turned eighteen last May."

"Eighteen?" Lily repeated incredulously. "How'd you get involved in this sort of business?"

"Oh, Cousin Sirius-"

"Nymphadora!"

Tonks scowled. "Speak of the mutt…"

"Don't be like that, Nymphadora," Sirius said, grinning devilishly. "You should be proud of your name!"

"It's a mouth full. Just saying it leaves me breathless," she said in a flat tone, "and it doesn't even mean anything!"

"Categorically false! It means gift of the nymphs." He was quite pleased with himself, if his smug expression was anything to go by. "I looked it up."

Tonks turned her eyes to the heavens, letting out an exaggerated breath. "You have far too much time on your hands."

"I simply make time, Cuz."

"Why are we holding the meeting in the cellars anyway? Or in Hogsmeade for that matter?" Lily asked. The town was swarming with Aurors, Hit Wizards and Knights right now as they kept the Triumphant March safe.

"Uh, free drinks?" Tonks suggested, eyeing the bottle of butterbeer in Sirius' hands.

"Partly," Sirius said. "The cellars have all sorts of enchantments over them to keep someone from slipping poison into brews and blowing the place to high hell and any number of sabotage attempts. Just so happens that these same enchantments keep us safe from any prying ears and eyes too."

Lily frowned. "We could set those up anywhere. It wouldn't even be that much trouble for me or Emmeline."

"But the genius of it is that these enchantments are Ministry approved. They're expecting them to be in place. They won't think twice about it, hence less risk of someone coming to investigate."

"That's...actually clever." Lily said.

"Lily, please." Sirius huffed. "Making mischief away from the prying eyes of authority is my specialty."

"Er, Sirius, who's that next to Dung?" Tonks asked, tilting her head slightly towards the dark-skinned man.

"Kingsley Shacklebolt," Sirius said without looking, "a sell-wand who's none too happy with how the Ministry's treated his family the last few years."

"Shacklebolt...that's a pureblood family, isn't it?" Emmeline asked.

"Not one of the Sixty Six though," Sirius said. "They were practically run out of the country a few years back - as close to unofficial exile as you could get."

The sound of the cellar door swishing open and slamming shut reached their ears. "Finally here. Took him long enough." Sirius said, downing the last of his drink..

Lily turned her eyes towards the staircase. The last arrival looked similar to Sirius, except his hair was tamer and his robes a richer black, giving him a formal look. He struck Lily as familiar.

A second later, her mind made the connection.

"Him?!" Her glass of water shattered as it hit the floor, soaking the stone. "Of all the people in the world, you let him in?"

Regulus Arcturus Black.

In an instant, her wand was out. He was faster though.

"Put the wand down Lily. Let's not do anything rash." Sirius said, before hastily adding, "You too, Regulus."

Lily continued to glower at Regulus while he watched her cautiously. Slowly though, both did as ordered.

"How can you trust him? He's a Paladin! For God's sake, he's one of their leaders! Him and his bitch sister!"

"My brother's has been with us for years," Sirius said, returning to his seat and rather unfazed by the whole matter. "He's our best informant."

"I'm your only informant," Regulus said.

"Would you two put your wands away?" Aberforth said. "I have better things to do with my night than play referee to your duel."

"Ladies first," Regulus said, smiling in a way that showed his glistening teeth. It took all of her willpower not to curse him then and there. .

Reluctantly, she placed her wand out of sight, and Regulus mirrored her actions, his expression morphing into relief.

"Why're we 'ere, sir?" Mundungus was the first to speak up.

"Albus Dumbledore, we've found him." Regulus answered for Aberforth. "He's in Nurmengard."

"Uh, I'm sorry, but I could've sworn you said Nurmengard just now," Tonks said, her hair changing from purple to chestnut brown, a hue that looked far more natural on the girl.

"Are you pullin 'un over us, Regulus?" Dung asked. "Nurmengard ain't been seen by anybody fer years. 'Ow the bloody hell did you?"

"Why is this such a surprise? We knew he had control over that prison for months now," Regulus said.

"Well someone," -Dung glared at Aberforth- "didn't share the bloody news."

"Wasn't important at the time," Aberforth said, before turning to Regulus. "How did it happen?"

"The Dark Lord called for a meeting. It was not entirely unexpected, to be honest, with how the Triumph was approaching. A lot of effort is expended to make sure things run smoothly, but it turned out he was in a…retrospective mood."

"Get to the bloody point."

"Hush now, Dung. I find his tale rather enthralling," Emmeline said and Dung crossed his arms. "Do continue, Regulus."

The Black nodded his thanks. "I shan't bore you with the details of what went on for it was mostly administrative matters. The highlight of it was when he ordered the Paladins to assemble. It was only when we were in front of the prison that we realized where we were."

"Any guards? Defenses?" Sirius prodded.

"The Dark Lord...he had creatures manning the fortress, strange beings no taller four feet, with skin as grey as the stones they watched. They regarded the Dark Lord with a certain...reverence, almost as if he were a deity of theirs."

"Great, more allies for the Dark Lord!" Lily said, glaring at Regulus. "As if we didn't have to deal with enough of those."

It was enough to give Regulus pause.

"Anything else, Regulus? Anything of importance?" Aberforth asked.

"Grindelwald was there too. His cells were near Dumbledore's."

"Grindelwald? Gellert Grindelwald?" Dung asked. "Fer fuck's sake, does anybody stay dead anymore these days?"

"Did you get a chance to speak with him?" Sirius asked. "With Dumbledore, I mean."

Regulus nodded. "Not speak, per se, but we did communicate somewhat. I used Legillimency, a branch of the mind arts," he explained for those unaware of the obscure magic, "on him. I managed to tell him of the Phoenix Movement, of how we've been looking for him. He said, well thought to me that it was high time he got out of Nurmengard."

"How?" Shacklebolt asked, speaking for the first time. "Easy to say such things, much harder to do."

"I'm afraid I have to agree with Kingsley on this," Emmeline said. "Nurmengard was Grindelwald's personal fortress, and he was a genius on par with Dumbledore. Breaking someone out will not be easy."

"Easy? Try bloody fuckin' impossible!" Dung said.

"I wouldn't worry about that," Regulus said.

"Er, why?" Tonks asked.

"Dumbledore said to meet him by the bridge. He implied he had a means of reaching that far without our assistance."

"Bridge?" Tonks blinked, looking around. "What bridge?"

"Nurmengard's bridge," answered Dung. "There's a chasm 'tween the prison and the lands around, see. A waterfall, two to three hundred meters, making for a nasty drop. Flying across the thing ain't possible either, with enchanted winds as strong as any gale blowin' over it. That's not the hard part either."

"What do you mean, Dung?" Emmeline asked.

"Nurmengard's in Switzerland," Regulus supplied.

"Shit!" Lily said.

Tonks frowned. "Do the Swiss have something against us or...?"

"They got the toughest bloody enchantments in all 'o Europe." Dung said. "Smuglin' anything in and out 'o there's a right pain in the arse. Not to mention their Dementor problem."

Tonks paled. "Because of the Ten Thousand?"

"Aye, the Ten Thousand." Dung nodded, his face softening. He glanced around the room, before speaking in an octave lower. "Used to be his prison. Used to be where they brought people to be-"

"We all know the stories, Dung," interjected Aberforth. Heads bowed and eyes cast down; a moment of silence passed.

Shacklebolt broke it first by crossing his arms. "Does this mean the mission is off?"

"No," Aberforth answered quickly, before anyone could get a word in. "We'll see this through the end, one way or another. We all knew the risks when we signed up."

Dung's gaze swept the room, searching for signs of support, but was met with grim, if resolved, looks. "It ain't possible, I'm tellin' ya! We'd jus' be throwin' our lives away!"

"You just don't have the right mindset," Aberforth said.

"Min' set?" Dung repeated, brows furrowing, lips parting and a hand massaging his temples. "Fuckin' min' set? Are you tellin' me being bloody optimistic's gonna get Dumbledore out?" He paced the room, muttering all manners of expletives under his breath.

"You have a plan, sir?" Sirius asked.

"You're too focused on trying to beat the enchantments when we don't have to." Aberforth said.

"Yer still not makin' any bloody sense to me," Lily heard Dung say under his breath. "Work within the system? What? Are the Swiss jus' gonna let us walk in if we tell 'em we want to break Dumbledore out 'o Nurmengard?" Shacklebolt snorted.

"We can get wands into the country legally. Get the Trace removed too, if we play it smart."

"The Trace?" Tonks repeated. "Isn't that for underage wizards?"

"Not quite the case here, dear," Emmeline said in a patient tone. "Ministries use the Trace for a variety of things, one of which is to track magical items entering their country outside of official channels, wands in our case. Its one way countries clamp down on illegal immigrants."

"Right," Aberforth said, "as I was saying, it won't be too difficult to get the Trace removed. We do, after all, have a Metamorphmagus with us."

Dung came to an abrupt halt, giving Tonks a hard stare. "Might actually work."

"Eh?"

"Its like this, Cuz'," Sirius began, "you know how Metamorphmagi are rare?"

"...Yeah."

"It also means most Ministries don't bother to check for them when confirming who you are. Makes it easier for you to assume a false identity." Sirius turned to Aberforth, a flash of something lurking beneath his eyes. "That's it, isn't it? We use her to sneak our wands in?"

"Basically, yes."

"Um, why go through all this trouble?" Tonks scanned the room furtively. "I mean, can't we just say we're in the country on a vacation or something?"

"Heh, sure," Dung said, "if you ne'er want to set foot in Britain again, that is."

"We can't let the Swiss know our real identities," Regulus said. "Standard Ministry protocol would have us ask them for a list of all British nationals in their country when the breakout occurred. It'd be a sure way to end up interrogated by the Knights."

"It'd also be pretty suspicious if some of us disappeared," Sirius added. "Regulus, for example, would need to stay here. His duties as a Paladin require it. I'm likely unable to leave the country too, given how my family's keeping an eye on me."

Regulus nodded concurringly. "Cousin Nymphadora won't have such problems though. Neither favored enough by the Regime to be a candidate of the Ruling Administration, nor a known dissenter. She's effectively invisible to the Ministry, for the time being at least."

"The Blacks are out then," Aberforth said. "Just as well, I'd rather keep the party small. Less chance we get noticed that way."

"'fraid I won't be able to make it either," Dung said, rubbing the back of his neck. "See, I've been...told to avoid the place."

"Blacklisted, you mean," Aberforth said, rolling his eyes. "Typical. Well, you can set up the safe house in that case."

"Aight, I can do that."

"I'm persona non grata here," Shacklebolt said. "The Ministry won't care if I'm out of the country, in fact, they prefer it that way. I have contacts as well in Switzerland. It will make it relatively easy for me to enter."

"Emmeline? What about you?" Aberforth asked.

"My absence might be noticeable," she said with a frown. "I could manage, but it might be better if Lily went instead. Her Patronus is better than mine."

"Evans?"

"I can manage, I think. Harry," -the hollow pain in the pit of her stomach made itself known again- "...Harry will be in Durmstrang by then. There won't be anything to hold me here."

"Good, its settled then," Aberforth said. "Now, let's talk details…"

-The Magnate-

10 April 1992

"Is today the day?" Gellert asked, feeling the stone dig into his back. His tattered clothes, pitiful things that could barely be called rags, were no deterrent to the cold - the ever-present cold - seeping into his bones. He stared at the steel across him, the rectangular slab that kept him caged for more years than he cared to count.

"It is," Albus answered, no doubt after recounting the blood streaks that were his makeshift calendar. "We have an hour or two, by my estimates. Will that be sufficient?"

Gellert frowned. "We'll be cutting it close."

"Then we best begin with our work."

"Agreed," Gellert said, bobbing his head. "First, we need to get out of these cells." He closed his eyes to focus on the innate magic of Nurmengard. He might not have been the architect of the physical structure, but he had enchanted, cursed, jinxed and charmed every inch of the mountain fortress. Even now, he could still read the magical blueprints, though the magic no longer heeded his wishes.

"We could break these doors down easily," Albus mused. Gellert pictured his friend stroking his beard contemplatively, as he had often done when deep in thought.

"Have you looked at yourself lately, Albus?" Though Dumbledore could not see it, Gellert raised an arm that was more bone than flesh. "We are not so young anymore, nor is the diet here meant to keep our strength up."

"The steel is not very strong," he insisted. "During my time with the Congolese tribes, I picked up a trick or two that didn't require a wand."

Gellert raised a brow. "Oh? They practice some form of necromancy, don't they?"

"Progonomancy, the art of raising of ancestors, to be technical," said Albus, "and while a useful source of information, it won't be of much help here. Rather, I was referring to their peculiar brand of conscience transference. The shamans had a fondness for golems, you see."

"How archaic," Gellert said, wrinkling his nose, "but we can make use of it. These doors will not yield to brute force alone, Albus. Still, the enchantments I have over them ensure they shall mend faster than they can be broken. I shall have to manually counteract my work if we are to succeed."

"I take it you'll need to use runes for that?"

"Yes," Gellert said. "We shall have to open my door first." He pushed himself up and looked at his hands, wrinkled and weak and worn. "For the greater good," he murmured, as soft as a mother's hush.

Then he bared his teeth and bit down, hard.

The primal bits of his mind screamed at him to stop, while his rational side cheered him on. For the greater good, he repeated, the well-worn mantra allowing him to ignore the pain.

The taste of something distinctly salty and metallic reached his tongue. It was akin to drinking from a rusted metal cup or an old ground well. Gellert spit out the bit of blood that lingered in his mouth and stared at the crimson blotch. "Can't believe vampires actually enjoy this."

He dragged his injured index finger across the door's smooth surface. All manner of symbols and equations sprang to life in his head, faster than he could inscribe them.

Slowly, the trickle of blood lessened as the innate magic of his cell worked to seal the wound; the marked runes a shade lighter than their earlier counterparts. Without hesitation, Gellert bit into flesh again, refusing to let his platelets (and magic) do their bloody work.

Again he wrote, again he bit and again he bled, until he found there was no more to be written. From top to bottom, the door was filled with crimson ink.

"Now Albus!"

The door shuddered, bits of rock actually flying inside his cell. Gellert took a few steps back, pleased to watch what wasn't happening. After every hit by the…thing outside, the door's locks did not right themselves, did not strengthen their attachment to the stone. It was slow work, exceedingly so, for stone fared poorly against steel. Rocks do not break steel. But with the application of sufficient force, rocks could break the bond between the lock and the wall.

"Ah," Gellert began, relishing as wind and light burst into his room while the door banged against the wall, "how I have waited for this moment." He took a few tentative steps outside and assessed Albus' proxy.

It was a bulky, inelegant humanoid, a string of boulders held together by faint slivers of magic. Its hands were disproportionate to the rest of its mass, chipped and uneven in a way that created a dichotomy with its body's curves. No mouth to speak and a crudely shaped eye which dominated its face.

Gellert inclined his head towards where Albus' cell should be. "Let's get you out of there, shall we?"

Minutes ticked by in quiet as he redid his work, neither one speaking. Grindelwald was too engrossed with his work and Dumbledore not quite there as he lived through his rock creature. Soon, the door was baptized in blood and its ability to self-repair neutralized by the red runes.

The door remained defiant, but in the end the result was much the same.

The glazed, faraway look on Albus' face faded with his summoned being, the material that composed it dissipating with the next gust of wind.

They were free.

"Now comes the hard part," Gellert said, holding out a hand to his seated comrade. "We must deal with the Mountain Children."

Albus grabbed the proffered hand, pulling himself up before frowning. "Would it not be prudent to simply make head for the gates now?"

"You will not find two stones in all of Nurmengard that weren't set by the Barbegazi. Even I cannot boast of avoiding the Mountain Children in their own home."

"This will not be easy without wands," Albus said, the hands by his side clenching and unclenching, as if searching for something to hold.

"No, it won't." Gellert shut his eyes, grasping for the familiar, if unresponsive, magic, much like one would the embrace of an ex-lover. In his mind, he saw the snaking lights that went every which way, nearly blinding where they congregated and barely visible for where they frayed.

"You have a plan for dealing with them, I take it? I doubt they will be repelled by two old men bereft of wands."

"Nurmengard, like any ancient place, has its secrets." Albus kept silent, patiently waiting for his friend to continue. "There are creatures, Albus, dangerous creatures that yet sleep."

"You've sensed them?"

His lips grew taut, the movement breaking dry skin. "I've seen them."

"What are they?"

"Giants," he whispered. "Giants unlike any I've encountered, skin charcoal black and frozen. I never found out for how long they've slept, but whoever did it obviously feared waking these creatures. In their room no warmth exists, no spark or flame can be brought in." Albus was silence, no doubt mulling over his words with care. "This way," Gellert said, finally mapping a route to their intended destination.

The halls outside their cells were illuminated by radiant gems which were embedded into the walls. They were of the magical sort, Gellert had surmised long ago, for he could not detect even the slightest warmth from them. In fact, they seemed to make the very place colder.

Albus stroked his bare chin with pencil thin fingers. "Hmm, the trick to break their hibernation is obvious: heat. As for the 'how' of the matter…perhaps a potion could work…but we don't have the tools or the time for one. Attacking the enchantments in place then?"

"They are written in old Nordic, a branch I have only passing familiarity with," Gellert said. "It's a possibility, but I fear it will take me far too long to unravel the defenses, especially since I have not yet studied the runes in depth. I-" His pace quickened abruptly and to Albus' credit, he matched the change smoothly. "They're coming for us."

Albus looked to the heavens. "I thought we'd have more time than that."

"The Barbegazi must have changed their patrol schedule," Gellert said, leading them through a right turn, then a left without pause. "A dozen of them are heading for the caverns. Farther away than we are, but we can't afford to dally for long."

"I thought you said they were long abandoned. Why would they bother with them now?"

Gellert's face twisted into an ugly thing. "The Barbegazi are a hive mind with a method for near instant communication. They must have figured out our plan by approximating our location."

"Yes, given an intelligent enough mind, they could find where we are by knowing where we aren't. Quite ingenious," Albus said, remaining the very definition of calm.

"Only you would be fascinated by that at a time like this." So certain of escape are we, Albus?

Albus' eyes twinkled. "What would fear accomplish? Whether I am frightened or intrigued, their capabilities remain the same. Would it not be better than to approach them with an open mind, free of crippling emotions?"

"All these years in a cage and the idealism in you hasn't been killed yet," Gellert said, halfway between awe and disbelief.

"I find that it is in one's darkest moments that our ideals become all the more important."

"Once a man has fallen into the power of another, any insult can be heaped upon him, anything can be taken from him," Gellert retorted sharply.

"Except belief," Albus answered. "That, only you can steal from yourself."

It was easy to know they had arrived at the giant's chamber. It was a cavern without any physical barrier at its mouth, but one few would willingly go into. Creeping vines of hoarfrost intermingling freely with fading old Nordic runes projected an aura of arctic chill. A grown man could freeze to death by merely standing too close to the entrance if they weren't careful.

The creature was certainly tall enough to be a giant, but far too ugly. The face was inhuman even, and its body appeared to be entirely of slag and soot and cinder. This was a creature meant to set itself, and everything around it, ablaze.

"We cannot bring fire to it from outside the room," Albus said, "and generating enough heat for a fire inside would be next to impossible without a wand."

"Not to mention we'd turn into ice if we tarry too long," Gellert said. "The only thing I can think of that would work from a distance would be sympathetic magic."

Albus turned to regard Gellert with a perfectly arched brow. "You're a practitioner?"

"I've dabbled in it. Still, I'd need to establish a bond between it and the heat source, something which Nurmengard is sorely lacking." As if to emphasize his point, a gust of wind swept by and caused his bones to protest.

"What would you need for the bond?"

Gellert rolled his shoulders. "It could be any number of things. A bond could be established based on similar composition, or size or color even. Attaching a part of a whole could be used as well if no such thing between the two exists. That's the easy part. What we have to figure out is the source."

Albus gave him a pointed look.

"…What?"

"We already have a heat source."

"You don't mean-"

"I do."

"That's insanity, Albus!" Gellert hissed. "We don't know how much we'd need to wake this creature. It could leave us both corpses for all we know! It's far too risky."

Albus chuckled. "It is a strange day indeed when Gellert Grindelwald speaks to me of risk and consequence. How far away are the Mountain Children?"

"They can't be more than five minutes away."

"Then the way I see it, either we try this now and possibly die, or face them without wands and probably die. Statistically…" he trailed off, palms apart and skyward, as if offering Gellert a selection to choose from.

Gellert's shoulders fell in defeat. "I suppose we can't back down now. We've managed to get this far." He looked at his injured finger, now clotted and bit into it for the umpteenth time. "For the bond, blood would be best." Gellert answered Albus' unasked question. "I knew escaping prison involved bloodshed, I just didn't think it'd be my blood."

Albus followed his example, before an ethereal glow surrounded his eyes as he prepared to transfer his conscience once more. The wind gave a vicious shriek before gushing towards them from every possible angle, each gust carrying a bit of rock or dirt that was then stacked upon each other. Within seconds, a mound had formed. Within a minute, Albus' boulder golem walked once more.

Gellert's head began to pound with every beat of his heart as he lathered the golem's right hand with a generous portion of both their blood. "Alright, make sure this hand is touching the giant," he instructed his friend.

The golem bobbed its head and entered into the cavern, heedless of the biting cold. It was rock after all, and rocks simply did not feel.

Gellert took a deep breath, clearing his mind until there was nothing but the warmth of their bodies and the now dried blood touching the giant.

Inhale, exhale.

His extremities went numb in synchrony. Suppressing the shiver running down his spine, he willed the heat to transcend space. It was unnerving to have the cold creep up his body, leaving a trail of what felt like burning skin – ironically enough.

Is this what it feels like to lose a limb? the Swiss wizard thought idly for a moment.

He knew that his arms and legs were still there, but they no longer responded to his orders. It was surreal and akin to being the victim of a body-bind spell.

Gellert looked at the giant, rallying his concentration into the task at hand. By now, only his chest, head and neck remained warm, the rest of him frostnipped. He was careful, very careful, to draw only so much heat that none of his – or Albus' for that matter – parts would require amputation after this.

Charcoal eyelids peeled up to reveal a blueness that did not belong to sky or sea, but instead was of fire. Its expression morphed from irritation to confusion to anger in a split instance.

Hastily, Gellert shut off the link, relishing as warmth slowly flowed back into his tingling body. Albus' rock creature faded away like before. Only this time, his friend was left with chattering teeth upon his return to his body.

"Magic men!" the giant said in volume normal for its kin, which was to say at the brink of deafening for people of average height.

It turned its head with stuttering motions, taking in its surroundings, which was strange considering the brash nature of giants. It pushed itself against the wall, soot and ash marking whatever it touched, and crawled forward until its head was a foot from the escapees. "Where is Surtr?" it bellowed in a language that sounded like Norwegian, emphasizing with a slap to the ground beside them. The message was clear: 'Answer my questions quickly, or get squashed like the bugs you are'.

"I'm afraid you're going to have to handle this one, Gellert. I never quite got around to learning Norwegian."

Gellert rolled his eyes. "That's just so typical of you British wizards, content with your one language," he said, ignoring the fact that Albus spoke over fifty. From the corner of his eyes, he saw Albus smile good-naturedly and give a small assenting nod.

Gellert tilted his head at this 'Surtr'. "You're in Nurmengard."

"The North Men's Shield?" it asked no one in particular.

"Is that what it means in your language?"

"Why is Surtr here?"

Gellert gritted his teeth. "You were imprisoned here by vile creatures, puny stone men who thought themselves greater than you."

At his words, the color of the giant's eyes changed from blue to the terrifying white of purest flames. "Greater than Surtr?" The temperature in the room rose by a few degrees. "GREATER THAN SURTR? Surtr smash puny stone men!" No fires erupted, but there was now a faint red to its form, made ominous by the tendrils of smoke emanating from the giant.

It was fortunate that the dozen Barbegazi chose then to arrive. If the pair of wizards was like ants to the Giant, the Mountain Children were the most miniscule of breadcrumbs.

"SURTR SEE PUNY STONE MEN!" it roared, leaving Gellert temporarily deaf in one ear. Albus and Gellert hastily sidestepped the existing giant, 'lest they become permanently joined to the floor by means of excessive pressure.

The Barbegazi watched the giant with confusion and fear, or so Gellert assumed. It was rather hard to tell honestly, what with the lighting of Nurmengard's halls dimming to better hide the residents of the mountain fort and the stone grey skin of the dwarves that melted into the walls if one didn't watch closely.

Surtr had no such problems. Or if it did, it didn't seem to mind. With every swing of its massive arms, there was a good chance of hitting something anyway. Three of the Barbegazi were smashed into the wall, their bodies quite literally shattering upon impact. The others scattered and tried to fight back, but their steel weapons seemed to be mere pinpricks to the giant. They probably did hurt, but they simply didn't do enough damage to threaten Surtr.

Gellert turned away from the slaughter to inspect the Nordic inscriptions. "There are stories about giants like this among the Scandinavians in the far north. The Jotnar, they were named, and these fire wielders in particular were heralds of the end times – the Ragnarok."

"I rather thought they seemed like the Heliopaths a Xenophilius Lovegood wrote to me about, back in my days as a Chief Warlock. Once Surtr has regained his fire, I could see him being described as 'a malevolent spirit that burned everything in its path.'" Surtr shuffled his feet, sending one unfortunate warrior who had been hacking ineffectually at his toe flying.

"I wouldn't mind having a few of these fellows on my side in a fight," Albus continued. "Could you imagine having to face a few of these-" -another pair of the Mountain Children crumbled under Surtr's relentless rage- "-in the open where its movements wouldn't be so restricted, with their bodies wreathed in fire? In the face of such a truly terrifying visage, only the most ardent wouldn't throw down their wands."

Gellert snorted. "At the risk of having them crush your own people. They're not exactly creatures of finesse."

"Oh, I wouldn't have them actually take to the field. They're just there to scare off the faint of heart and break morale faster. That way, less people have to die."

"Stone men no more!" Surtr said, smacking a fist into an open palm. "Magic men, Surtr want more stone men to crush!"

"Not to worry, Surtr!" Gellert bellowed as loud as he could manage, which probably sounded to the giant like a mouse's squeaking still. "Where we're going, there will be plenty of stone men for you to crush!"

Surtr bobbed his head in a content fashion. "Show Surtr the way, magic men."

Gellert walked past the giant and the recently shattered rock fragments that littered the halls. "What I don't understand is how a giant from Scandinavia made it this far south, hundreds of years ago."

"It might have come over with the Vikings. Their reach was fairly wide in the ninth to eleventh centuries."

"None of their ships reached this far inland," Gellert said. "But…perhaps a group of settling Vikings could have made the trip overland. From Sicily to here is about a thousand kilometers...not so far, even for the people of that era."

"Why though?"

"To get it away from its source of power, perhaps?" Gellert mused. "If we assume its natural element to be fire, it would be stronger near volcanoes, of which there are none in Switzerland. Ready to use fortresses as good as this one can't be found just anywhere either."

"A plausible theory," Albus said with a tilt of his head, "one definitely worth looking into once we leave."

"I…hmm, the Barbegazi's movement patterns are shifting."

"Towards us?"

"Away from us mostly," Gellert said. "They're gathering their strength just before the gates, though a small party is in the way, probably buying time for more of them to arrive."

"They've given up on hunting us then, and are content to let us come to them. These creatures are crafty. Now I see why you did not eradicate them and instead bound their will to the Elder Wand. They make for excellent wardens indeed."

"They excel in many roles," Gellert said in an oddly subdued voice, "warden being the least among them."

The next group of stone men they, or rather Surtr, faced numbered thrice the last one. They were adapting too for instead of dimming the lights, they made them brighter, harsher and let them flicker at a blinding rate. Had their opponent been the conventional sort, it might have worked. What they failed to grasp, however, was that Surtr's style of fighting didn't depend on his sense of sight. No, a berserker relied on his abnormal strength and wild, erratic thrashing to get the job done. Scholars may argue the effectiveness of the method, but at the end of the day Surtr remained and his enemies didn't. That was enough for Gellert.

"I don't rightly know whether to be happy, so close as we are to escaping, or annoyed that the prison I built isn't perfect." Gellert said, frowning.

"Oh, my injured pride!"

Gellert glared at his friend, but there was no sting to it. An incessant force tugged at his lips, threatening to betray him. "We're close," he said, as they passed where his likeness used to stand. In its place was a statue of an inhumanly handsome fellow, with an angular face that framed mesmerizing, brown eyes. There was something…magnetic about him.

If I were a few decades younger...

"That was Voldemort?"

"Yes."

"I can see why people follow him. It's easy to get behind a face like that, especially if he has even an ounce of charm in him."

"Charm," Albus began, "has always been Tom's greatest weapon. He wields it as well as he does a wand."

The top half of Nurmengard's gates came into view, the other half lost behind layer upon layer of the Barbegazi. They were armed with spear, halberd, pike and all manner of pole weapons, exactly what one should use in great numbers. Without a word of command, their weapons locked into place, ready to repel the escapees.

"SURTR CRUSH!" the giant screamed, rushing forward with reckless disregard for its own health. The red that wreathed its body turned into an eerie blue, dispelling the chill of Nurmengard. A massive hand slammed into the earth, liquefying the poor fools that stood there. Surtr did not let its momentum go to waste, swishing its arm to and fro, creating large gaps among the endless grey.

Then, the Barbegazi did something Gellert had never seen them do before. Their ranks parted like the Red Sea before Surtr, opening a clear path to the gates.

"Go, now!" Gellert's attempt at sprinting ended up like drunken stumbling. Suddenly, something yanked him up, though he was still closing in on the gates. He looked to his left and saw Albus' still body in the palm of his rock golem.

None of the Barbegazi bothered to bar the way, their attention now solely on Surtr, who was slowly being lured towards the entrance, underneath a trapdoor that held burning oil.

That would only make him stronger, Gellert thought. Unless…they switched the oil with something else. Something like-

The metal of the gates clanged as they were pushed aside by Albus' creature. A barrage of sensations assaulted Gellert – the feeling of the sun's fleeting kisses on his face, the roar of water as it dropped, the smell of his native land's fresh, crisp air. One stood out in particular though: the sight of falling flakes, the very definition of white.

He turned his head, words of warning already on his tongue. Too late though, as the trapdoors swished open, unloading a sea of snow onto Surtr. Had it been something else, the giant would have shrugged it off easily, but snow was crystallized water ice – Surtr's elemental opposite.

The blue hue which protected its body faded to red once more as it melted some of the snow, only for it to turn to water that continued to dampen Surtr's power. If it hadn't been weakened by years of inactivity, if it had been near a heat source, Surtr might have withstood it. As things were? It stood no chance.

Soon, even the red faded to nothing and the light in Surtr's eyes died, or so Gellert imagined. He was too far to see the details now. He did hear one last thing, however.

"Surtr…sleep…now."

Like a breaking dam, the Barbegazi surged out of the gates, intent on recapturing those who would besmirch Nurmengard's reputation and good name. Albus' creature stopped just before a short chasm that separated the fortress from the world. Howling winds, enchanted to be as fierce as any hurricane, raged about. Anyone who tried to traverse these currents would quickly hover out of control before taking a mandatory 250 meter dive into the rocky floor that the waterfall led to.

The bridge isn't raised! We need a wand for – is that Aberforth?

Across the chasm, Gellert could see a motley group, no doubt the help Albus promised, led by none other than his friend's brother. The rattling of metal from behind grew even closer.

"LEGILLIMENS!" he screamed, shooting Aberforth a look that could have pierced his very soul. He reacted as expected, with resentment that lingered behind wide eyes and a shield positioned with expert precision.

Perfect, was Gellert's last thought, as he felt the other Dumbledore tinkering with his thoughts. Aberforth could only see what Gellert willed him to see, however, and there was only one thing he needed him to see: how to raise the bridge.

Weakened from blood loss and the day's activities, the last of his strength fled from him, dragging his conscience into the abyss.

The last thing he heard was the rumble of the earth.

-The Magnate-

The earth rumbled in response to the spell Aberforth had cast, great slabs of stone jutting out from both sides of the chasm in quick succession. Soon, an uninterrupted walkway was in place, allowing the strange rock being that carried Dumbledore and his companion passage. It moved with surprising speed, though with an awkward gait.

"They're not moving fast enough," Aberforth said. Indeed, just behind the escapees was a horde of grey-skinned dwarves armed with a panoply of pole arms, closing the gap quickly, too quickly. "Watch our flanks for Dementors! Shacklebolt! On me!" Aberforth barked out, striding forward while his wand was already drawing patterns in the air.

Kingsley did not hesitate, following just a step behind Aberforth and mimicking the pattern. A second later, twin jets of white spiralled wobbily past Dumbledore, dragging a steady stream of snow that settled just before the pursuers. More and more of the white substance came forth, until a segment of the bridge was covered in two meters of the stuff, forcing the dwarves to wade through it at a torturously slow pace. Another jab turned snow to crystalline ice, trapping the creatures.

Aberforth's body stiffened as Dumbledore approached. "Just had to bring him along, didn't you?" he asked, bitterness seeping into every word.

"Gellert was essential to my escape," Dumbledore replied, "and it would be terribly ungrateful of me to leave him behind when there was no apparent need to."

The rock creature dropped its passengers next to Aberforth, before dissipating into grainy mist.

"Why's he unconscious?" Aberforth asked, redoing the spell on bridge. Segments of rock began to upturn, breaking up the ice and dumping its contents into the chasm.

"He's lost too much blood."

"Shacklebolt, the Blood-Replenishing Potion," Aberforth ordered, even as he revived Grindelwald. The mercenary brought over a vial of crimson liquid which was promptly poured down Grindelwald's throat. The blonde tried to stand, but Aberforth's hand kept him down. "Let the potion do its work first."

It was only up close that Lily realized how much the years had changed Dumbledore. He was more skeleton than man now, without hair to cover wrinkled skin. His smile too was different, close-lipped instead of the wide, beaming one she had grown up with.

"Masks on!" Aberforth barked. "Before anyone catches our faces."

"Are these things even smart enough for that?" Tonks asked, tweaking her features until she was no longer recognizable. A perk of being a Metamorphmagus.

Lily grabbed at the mask within her cloak before cupping it with her hands. Strange that it was now her and her allies who had to hide who they were, when less than a decade ago it was the Death Eaters who did so.

How the times have changed, she thought, donning the mask.

"Closest we could find to your wand," Aberforth said, handing his brother thirteen inches of maple around dragon heartstring.

Dumbledore grasped for it eagerly, sending brilliant silver sparks shooting out from the tip upon contact. The very air hummed, faint lines distorting Lily's vision for a second. "Thank you, Aberforth." Lily could only imagine the relief he must be feeling, being able to do magic after so many years. Then, abruptly, Dumbledore's eyes widened, his expression turning aghast.

Aberforth, noticing as well, placed a hand on Dumbledore's shoulder. "What's wrong?"

"Tom did something to me, warped my magic or...no, a spell system to keep me from escaping." He began to pace, bone knuckles tightening. "Anti-Portkey, Animagus Bind, Concealment Disruption," Dumbledore murmured, "Anti-Glamour, Polyjuice Inhibitor, Phoenix-Bane, Scrying Eye."

Scrying Eye...that's an advanced Tracking Charm. Lily's eyes widened. "He's coming? Here?" she asked, eyes scanning the sky.

Dumbledore nodded. "I suspect he will arrive within minutes. A clever trap, one I did not foresee beforehand."

"What are we waiting for then?" Tonks asked. a slight tremble in her voice. "Let's Disapparate before he gets here!"

"It would serve no purpose. So long as these spells remain on me, Tom will be alerted of my location at every instance of wand magic."

Including Disapparition.

"Can't you get rid of it?" Aberforth asked.

"I cannot say for certain. A few minutes of thorough inspection should tell me more."

"As quick as you can," Aberforth said. "Damn it! We'd be better off fighting the Dementor Swarms than the Dark Lord."

Dumbledore turned to Lily. "Ms. Evans, your help wouldn't be amiss. Another pair of eyes might hold the key to our predicaments."

"Of course, sir."

Dumbledore knelt, raising pillars from the ground with a mere wave. Then, he grabbed a handful of snow, which turned into spiders at the barest flicker of his wand.

"Web." He spoke and the transfigured animals obeyed. The insects scurried towards the pillars...twisting, measuring, weaving, until the silk lines formed the outlines of a three-dimensional heptagon. "As I suspected, he's bound the spells together. This will not be easy." The spiders changed vectors suddenly, distorting the half-formed figure until it was awkward and almost painful to look at.

"Dark magic," Lily whispered. That was the only explanation for the unusual spell geometry. "Is it the Phoenix-Bane?"

Dumbledore frowned. "No, I accounted for that in my spell. It should not have affected the webbing, not to this degree. There must be something else at work." Again, the spiders made a sharp turn, leaving the silk webbings in an unidentifiable abstract.

"Are you done yet?" Aberforth asked, the lines of his face taut. Behind him, Grindelwald was limping forward with the assistance of Shacklebolt. "We need to get out of here."

"It seems we're out of options," Dumbledore said. "Stand back, I will attempt to Overwhelm." Lily backpedalled by several feet before taking cover behind a tree.

Overwhelming, Satisfaction, Unravelling - of the three curse breaking methods, the first was the least elegant. It was not the use of an equal and opposite, like Satisfaction, nor the direct manipulation of an internal structure, such as Unravelling. Instead, it relied on brute power to undo the spell. For advanced pieces of magic, the possibility of catastrophic backlash warranted a healthy dose of paranoia.

Dumbledore waited, whistling a jaunty tune, as Grindelwald was helped to cover. He did a final scan of his surroundings, then raised his wand high.

"Finite Incantatem!"

Waves of magic poured out from him, prickling Lily' skin and forcing her a step back. For a moment everything was quiet as the power was sapped out of the air.

Then Dumbledore frowned.

"That's not supposed to happen," Grindelwald said.

"No, it's not," Dumbledore agreed. "There is something...redirecting my magic, making it interact differently with the spells."

"The only thing I can think of powerful enough to do that would be Blood Magic," Grindelwald said.

"But Blood Magic is defensive by nature!" Lily blurted out.

"That rule hasn't been broken," Grindelwald countered. "It's defending the spell system against Albus. That would make it impossi-"

Voldemort's appearance in the sky was heralded by booming thunder. For a moment, he stood in the air, solitary and draped in resplendent green, like a King greeting his wayward children. An instant later, all manners of restrictive enchantments fell into place, blocking off their avenues of magical escape.

"Impressive," Voldemort declared upon his descent, the silver circlet atop his head perfectly in place and catching what sunlight was present. "The first man to escape from Nurmengard alive."

"Admittedly Tom, I had some assistance on that end," Dumbledore said dipping his head.

Voldemort's eyes flickered towards the treeline, seemingly unperturbed by the evocation of his given name. "Ah, Gellert Grindelwald, the Architect himself. And my, my Albus. Your very own masked followers." He smirked. "You're becoming more like me each day, Albus."

"And you like me, Tom," Dumbledore answered, a tad quicker than usual. "I like to think we learn from each other."

"Perhaps," Voldemort said, tilting his head slightly, wand of elder wood in hand.

"So eager for your next lesson already, Tom?" Dumbledore asked. "You always were a curious one."

"You'll soon discover that I-" -malevolent red erupted from Voldemort- "-am the one giving the lesson!"

Dumbledore was already reacting, hundreds of conjured birds flying into the barrage of curses, flying in so many layers that nothing could get past.

"Keno!" Voldemort shouted, his tone imperious as he willed reality to become something it was not. A tear appeared in the air, a gaping, ominous void and the flight of the flock changed.

"I need a wand!" Lily heard Grindelwald scream, even as the hole disappeared, taking with it the conjured animals. Kingsley had joined the fray now, shielding Dumbledore from an oncoming stream of curses.

Voldemort shot into the air, the ground where he once stood morphing into a pool of molten rock. Hands of stone attempted to swat him back into the ground, but he proved too agile in the air and -

His direction of flight changed as he dropped towards the bubbling lava below.

Silk into steel.

A difficult Transfiguration, it weighed the Dark Lord down to a point where the modified Levitation Charm could no longer support him. Here the tight fitting nature of the robes worked against Voldemort as he struggled to move his wand, to turn it on himself so he could undo the Transfiguration.

Kingsley dropped his shield, going on the offensive against Voldemort to seal his fate.

Then he was down, writhing on the ground in pain, dark tendrils creeping up along his arm.

Lily was about to step out to help when an arm held her back. "Don't." Aberforth grunted out, giving her a stern look. "Leave the fighting to them. You're better off finding a way to break whatever enchantment's keeping my brother here."

"We don't have the time to find the right spell to Satisfy, nor do we know enough to safely Unravel. And an Overwhelm would be impossible. If Dumbledore couldn't do it-"

"It's because of the Blood Magic." Grindelwald said, hurrying over with a wand. Tonks followed after without hers. "It's forcing Albus' magic to protect the spell system, acting as a reinforcement of sorts. That's why the Overwhelming failed." Then he frowned. "Still, its a link bound by the Elder Wand. I doubt we could break it. Weakened as Albus is now, his magic would be a formidable defense to overcome. We have to weaken him further."

"How? We don't have the material necessary for a Bleeding or-" A solemn look told Lily all she needed to know. "You want to use the Dementors!"

"It's the fastest way."

"To get that effect we'd need to call forth hundreds of them!"

Grindelwald's face grew heavier and his shoulders slumped, but his voice did not falter. "That will be the easy part."

"He could have his soul sucked out! He's as good as dead if that happens!"

"And if we don't try it, he'll be truly dead!" Grindelwald shot back just as quickly.

"Whatever you two decide on, make it fast!" Aberforth barked, stalking away from them and towards the battle. "Have to get them out of there."

"I can buy you some time," Grindelwald said.

Splotches of magma continued to dot the earth. Voldemort was in constant motion, zigzagging across the field, his robes returned to their normal state. Shacklebolt's arm began to dissipate, as if acid was biting into it. Dumbledore stood in front of his downed ally, steadfastly holding his shield against the barrage of curses. It would not hold indefinitely...

-The Magnate-

"Come now, Albus!" Voldemort said. "I'd expected more of a challenge from you!"

Albus' chest rose and fell, each intake of air a laborious task for his frail form. Voldemort took a step forward as Dumbledore was forced one back, the Shattering Hex making his shield flicker.

"You'll have...to forgive...an old man...for his failing...strength." Dumbledore shivered, a slight tremble affecting his hand. He released another shuddering breath, now visible in the falling temperature.

"What's the matter? Feeling a little chilly?" Voldemort asked, letting a feral grin show. "Let me warm you up then!"

Wand held aloft, a stream of malicious fire billowed out, roaring like a beast set free. It grew exponentially, taking the form of a dragon, snarling and hissing at the puny wizards, but not striking. Not yet.

To his credit, Dumbledore did not seem disturbed by the prospect of being at His mercy, of being face to face with Death itself. He seemed calm, happy even and Dumbledore smiled.

Dumbledore smiled!

He smiled too, carelessly flicking his wand to raise a protective dome around Him, just in time to stop a black panther from biting His head off and -

He felt a slight quiver at His feet, and glanced down, annoyed to find them buried in quicksand. Before he could do anything about it, He sensed something, making him look up and see the Fiendfyre - His Fiendfyre - surging towards Him. You dare to turn My own magic against Me?

Stop. It's charge broke against His stare.

Obey. It turned around.

Burn.

"Tsk, tsk, tsk, when will you realize, Albus? No matter how today plays out, you cannot win."

The air around him seemed to buzz and -

His dome stopped a bolt of lightning from smiting Him, the deep sound of a struck gong reverberating in the air. Already, Dumbledore was gone, switched out from beneath the fiery dragon by a blonde wizard. Voldemort made a show of sighing, as if He found the whole thing entirely bothersome. Inside, He was ecstatic.

"Gellert Grindelwald." A swish of His wand and the quicksand, now at His knees, vanished. "Showing yourself at last?"

"I was never hiding," Grindelwald said. "I hope you've enjoyed your time with the wand."

Voldemort raised a brow at him, an amused expression settling on his face. "You think you can take it from me? You, when you lost to him?"

"You'll find," he began, letting the words roll off his tongue like molasses, "that I do not hold back against the likes of you, that I do not restrict myself."

A gust passed by, chillier than before and -

He barely noticed any movement from Grindelwald, and yet the winds shrieked, the force of an entire storm channeled into one blast of air. His Fiendfyre was sent ten meters back, closer to Him now than Grindelwald.

Depulso, his mind instantly supplied. The Banishing Charm - a spell versatile enough to be taught, and simple enough to be taught to fourth years.

Then Grindelwald was in the air, too high up for the Fiendfyre to reach him.

Whip, Voldemort ordered and the dragon consumed itself to become as He desired, one end connecting to the tip of His wand. He ascended after His prey, sending His lash of fire hunting. It crackled and popped, the first strike hitting just below Grindelwald's feet.

The second struck true, coiling around his ankle.

Grindelwald turned his wand against the fire whip, dissolving it into ash, and began a furious barrage of offensive spells against Him.

Lights danced in mid-air, a splash of color against the darkening clouds. Grindelwald was fast, but He was faster, better, for He was Lord Voldemort and no relic from a bygone era was going to match Him.

There! The tiniest lull amidst the rapid spellfire.

A counterfeit! Voldemort snarled. He couldn't truly fly, not without his wand.

At the next lull, he jabbed his wand at Grindelwald, and he sensed more than saw a jolt go through his opponent's wand hand. For a moment nothing moved, but then Grindelwald began falling, as if the strings holding him suspended in the air had been cut.

"LUMOS!" The heavens roared, echoing Grindelwald, the light of a miniature sun bursting forth. Desperate.

Voldemort was forced to look away for an instance, his ears ringing and spots dotting his vision. He didn't need to see to follow though. When he looked again, Grindelwald's descent had slowed by enough that they landed at the same time.

"Our audience is arriving!" Voldemort cackled out in the lull of combat. A dark swarm gathered overhead, ten feet tall and cloaked in blackness.

Grindelwald matched His laugh with a grim smile, a flicker of - worry, was it? - in his eye. "Expecto Patronum." A phoenix of blinding white began to circle, keeping the soul thieves away from the two of them. "It wouldn't do to have these pesky things interrupt now, would it?"

"No, it wouldn't," Voldemort said, His own Patronus, a Basilisk, joining the Phoenix in warding off the growing swarm. "You could join me, you know."

"Scared of losing are we?"

"Of wasting potential," Voldemort corrected. "I'm always on the lookout for competent lieutenants for my new world order."

"I'll have to decline," Grindelwald said. "I don't do well with orders."

"Such a shame." Victory is assured.

Green lights arced across the field.

-The Magnate-

A mountain goat, a jackrabbit and an abraxan.

"Uh, h-how much l-longer?" Tonks asked. Her jackrabbit was starting to flicker against the Dementors, struggling to hold. The fact that she had to use Kingsley's wand while her own had been pilfered by Grindelwald did not make it easier on her.

"Fifteen seconds," Lily said through gritted teeth. "Get ready to Disapparate out when it happens."

Ten, nine, eight…

From the corner of her eye, she saw Tonks nod mutely and grab a hold of Kingsley's remaining arm.

Seven, six, five...

The Dementors began to close in, swirling around the small circle their Patroni afforded them. There were hundreds…

Four, three, two…

"NOW!" Aberforth bellowed, the mountain goat glowing brighter, circling faster.

Her abraxan disappeared and she turned her wand on Dumbledore in an instant. "FINITE INCANTATEM!" A sense of euphoria filled her as the the spell system shattered. "FINITE INCANTATEM!" she chanted again, directing her magic towards the enchantments that kept them here and -

Cold, skeletal hands gripped her shoulders.

Aberforth turned and knelt to grab Dumbledore, eyes widening in alarm as they passed her. "Evans, beh-"

"Go!" Lily managed to shout, her thoughts becoming a murky jumble.

Pop! Pop!

And she was alone.

I have always been alone.

"Not," the creature behind her whispered, "always."

"We can't leave Britain, Lily! This is our home!"

"The Ministry declares in favor of James Potter on the matter of Harry Potter's custody, pursuant to Ministry Decree-"

"She's NOT my mother! I don't know her. I never even met her! What kind of mother abandons her son and never even checks up on him!"

"I hate her!"

He hates me.

"He hates you."

Anything but this.

"Anything?" It leaned in closer, now above her. When had she fallen?

"Just remember," it said, each word enunciated ever so slowly, sounding like crushed glass grinding against each other, "you asked for this to happen."

The Dementor drew back its hood - mouth already open - and leaned close.

White amidst black.

AN: So...yeah, I'm back?