Written in the Stars - In the Stone Tower

In the Stone Tower

The Dark Lord watched intently as the woman writhed under the effects of the curse and smiled as the skin of her lip split from where she bit down on it to prevent herself crying out.

Begrudgingly, he respected her resilience. She had yet to crack, but it was only a matter of time before she did.

They all did in the end.

“Enough, Bella,” he instructed.

Bellatrix’s hair was as wild as her eyes and she was becoming frustrated from the lack of progress.

Voldemort could break into the woman’s mind with considerable effort, but there was little fun to be had from that. No, he preferred to see just how much his victims could endure before they broke of their own accord.

Hers was a strong will and her mind closely guarded.

She had evidently invested much time into her Occlumency studies.

“Where is he?” the Dark Lord whispered.

The woman spat a mouthful of blood on the floor and looked up defiantly through her one unswollen eye.

“Fuck you!” she croaked.

Voldemort released a deep sigh and nodded towards Bellatrix.

“CRUCIO!” she screeched.

He allowed her to hold the woman under the curse for only a few more seconds. Augustus had gone to so much effort to have her brought here, and it would be a shame for her to lose all grasp of reality without giving up what she knew.

“YOU WILL TELL MY LORD WHAT HE WANTS TO KNOW!” Bellatrix commanded, her breathing coming in short gasps.

The woman looked up once more, smirking and revealing that she was missing a few teeth from the ordeal she was suffering.

“H-he is n-not your l-lord though, is he?” she asked amusedly. “Your h-husband w-was k-killed. By your own b-beliefs, that m-makes the lord of your birth house, your l-lord.”

Bellatrix’s nostrils flared.

“Potter is not my lord!” she seethed. “CRUCIO!”

This time, the woman did scream, and it was music to the Dark Lord’s ears.

It would not be long before she broke.

“Bella!” he said firmly when she did not relent.

Bellatrix’s chest heaved from her exertions.

“My, this is quite the family reunion, isn’t it?” Voldemort asked amusedly.

“She is no family of mine!” Bellatrix denied vehemently.

“Nonsense,” the Dark Lord chuckled. “She is the daughter of your sister, is she not?”

“Andromeda was kicked out of the family!”

“And yet, you share the same blood,” Voldemort pointed out. “Isn’t that so, Narcissa?”

The blonde nodded.

She was unable to conceal the horror and revulsion she felt at the treatment of the auror, but she did not comment on it.

The Dark Lord had insisted she be here to bear witness to the interrogation in the hopes it would encourage her to complete the search of the manor quickly.

If the diary was indeed here, he would have it in his possession as soon as possible. If not, Narcissa Malfoy could expect similar treatment to Nymphadora Tonks.

He may even have Bellatrix do it.

The thought brought a grin to his lips, but the moaning of the auror sobered him.

Now was not the time to fantasize of what may be. He needed information and he needed it now.

“Where is he?” he pressed once more.

“Bugger you,” Auror Tonks wheezed.

“CRUCIO!”

Bellatrix had not even needed prompting, and again, the metamorph howled in agony as the curse tore through her.

“TELL HIM! TELL HIM OR I WILL PAY A VISIT TO YOUR MOTHER!”

“M-my mother w-would k-kill you.”

Bellatrix slapped her niece with all the force she could muster and did so again and again until the restrained woman fell limp in her seat.

“You really think so?” Bellatrix whispered. “CRUCIO!”

The auror remained still and did not react to the curse this time.

“Enough, Bella!” the Dark Lord commanded irritably.

Reluctantly, Bellatrix relented and Voldemort cursed under his breath.

He needed information, not another dead auror on his hands.

His glance shifted to Dawlish whose remains had yet to be cleared, by design, of course.

If Auror Tonks doubted that the Dark Lord would kill her, she need only look to her right to see the pained expression her superior had etched on across his features when he had perished, though he had not put up half the resistance of the woman.

Dawlish had given all the information he could provide within the hour of being brought her.

Still, his life was worthless and the Dark Lord had no time for prisoners.

It was much simpler to do away with them, and the same would happen to his latest victim when she had yielded everything of worth.

That, however, would not seemingly be tonight.

“Severus, I want her well enough by the morning,” the Dark Lord instructed. “Perhaps she will change her mind after some rest. Come, Bella, you are not to be left alone with her.”

“My lord, I can…”

Voldemort held up a hand to silence the woman.

“Come, Bella,” he repeated.

Bellatrix pouted and stormed from the room followed shortly by Lord Voldemort after offering Narcissa a pointed glare.

One way or the other he always got what he wanted, and this would be no different.

Auror Tonks would break soon, and when she did, he would ensure she regretted every last moment of defiance she had cost him.

(Break)

Narcissa could only stare at the broken form of the unconscious auror, lost for words at what she had just witnessed. She knew that the Dark Lord was a monster, that though his followers respected him for his prowess, they feared him in equal measure.

She choked back a sob.

It wasn’t that the girl was Andromeda’s daughter that elicited such a reaction. She would feel the same had she been made to watch what she had to anyone.

“Narcissa, I need you to pass me some blood-replenishing potions, some Skele-gro, and some bruising salve,” Severus spoke as calmly as ever as checked the woman over.

“Not a pain relief potion?”

Severus shook his head.

“She is too weak. It would kill her.”

“That would be merciful,” Narcissa murmured as she fetched the required brews from the man’s bag.

“Now is not the time for this,” Severus said firmly, taking her by the wrist and squeezing it uncomfortably tight. “You must remain strong.”

“I don’t think I can,” Narcissa whispered. “You saw what he did to her. He will do the same to me.”

Severus said nothing as he forced the potions down the auror’s throat and began tending to her with his wand.

“She will not survive another round of that,” he sighed when he was finished. “I have done all I can for her.”

“So, we just let her die?”

“What else is there?” Severus returned. “If she escapes, he will know it was one of us responsible. She was foolish enough to get herself captured. There is nothing we can do for her.”

“Or me,” Narcissa replied. “The diary is gone.”

Severus nodded.

“I expect it is.”

Narcissa narrowed her eyes at him.

“You knew.”

Severus did not deny it and Narcissa slapped him across the face.

“You allowed me to think there was hope.”

“I have bought you time,” Severus countered harshly. “I know you, Narcissa. You are not one to remain idle when a threat hangs over you. So, what have you done?”

“Nothing,” Narcissa denied.

She would not share her plan with him, not when he had proven himself to be so blasé about everything that had happened tonight, and seemingly with her life.

“Nothing?”

Narcissa shook her head.

“What can I have done?”

Severus frowned for a moment, his gaze not leaving her own until his expression softened somewhat.

“There is only one person that could have helped you, but I fear it is too late.”

“Who?”

“Potter.”

Narcissa raised a delicate brow in response.

“If he heard you say that, he would kill you.”

“He would,” Severus agreed. “If you can find a way to reach him, I would do so urgently, unless you wish for me to speak with him on your behalf.”

“You could do that?”

Severus nodded cautiously.

“I do have Dumbledore’s confidence. I could arrange a discussion with Potter.”

Narcissa shook her head.

“No, it is too late for that now. She will give him what he wants by morning, and he will not be distracted for much longer. By the time anything can be arranged, his attention will have turned back to me.”

For the first time in as long as she had known him, Narcissa saw Severus’s impassive expression crack as he offered her a look of pleading.

“Let me help you,” he urged. “Please.”

“I do not need your help, Severus,” Narcissa replied cryptically. “It is as you said, you know me well enough to know I already have plans.”

With that she took her leave of the cellar and made her way towards the parlour where she could help herself to a much-needed glass of wine.

Pouring herself a generous measure, she took several calming breaths, pausing as Bella’s voice sounded from the door she had closed behind her.

“The Dark Lord says that neither you nor Snape are to leave the manor until he gives you his express permission.”

Narcissa laughed as she turned towards her sister.

“So, I am to be a prisoner in my own home?”

“Don’t be difficult, Cissy,” Bellatrix huffed. “Just do as you are told.”

“Like you do?”

Bellatrix’s nostrils flared in irritation.

“He’s going to kill me, Bella, and you couldn’t care less.”

“He will not as long as you return it to him,” Bellatrix whispered. “Find it, Cissy, or he will.”

Narcissa took a sip of her wine and waited for Bella to depart.

She did so a moment later when she realised that she would get no further words from her younger sister.

Finally alone, Narcissa lowered herself into her chair by the fireplace and found a small hope in the fact that she had forwarded the required portkey to Potter that very morning.

It would be too much for him to act on it immediately, but she all but prayed that he would do so in time to save her and Draco from the Dark Lord’s inevitable wrath.

Her and her son’s future hinged on just what Potter would do next.

(Break)

“You do continue to impress me, Harry, and that is no easy feat,” Gellert praised as he eyed the young man speculatively.

His progress was indeed exceptional; his form and casting a little unorthodox, but undoubtedly effective.

He was still alive after facing some considerably more experienced foes, after all.

“Thanks to you,” Harry replied.

Gellert shook his head.

“I merely provided information and a few tips here and there,” he pointed out. “The results are your own from the hard work and dedication you have demonstrated.”

Harry snorted amusedly.

“What of the Hallows?” Gellert probed curiously.

He was keen to hear of how they worked in triplet, if at all.

“I’m still figuring them out,” Harry admitted. “I did not expect the magic to be so different and complex, but…”

“It is like nothing else you have experienced,” Gellert finished.

Harry nodded.

“I expected as much. My own experiments with the wand led me to believe that uniting all three would be quite the exceptional coming together. With you being a descendant of the Peverells, I imagine it is so much more for you than it would be any other. The Hallows are where they belong. You will get there, Harry. You always do.”

“If I have time,” Harry sighed. “It won’t be long now before we meet again. I can feel it, almost as though we are being pushed together.”

“Then you are ready,” Gellert said simply. “You shall meet as equals at the very least. My last bit of advice would be to do all that is necessary to emerge victorious. Your life hangs in the balance, and I would see the scales tipped in your favour when all is said and done.”

“I will kill him,” Harry vowed. “Even if the best I can do is take him with me, I will do it.”

Gellert believed him.

There was something to be said for all the evil in the world, but there was always something as powerful and opposite to meet it when the time was right.

Gellert had felt invincible with the Elder Wand, and yet, it had been Albus that bested him, just as he believed Harry would defeat Riddle.

Harry would not waver in the face of the man that most others feared, and he would not simply fall to his knees and plead for his life.

He would fight back with a grit and determination that the Dark Lord had never been confronted with, and it would come courtesy of someone as vicious and as ruthless as him.

“Why have you never asked to be released?” Harry asked curiously, pulling Gellert from his thoughts.

The former Dark Lord smiled at the question.

“Where would I go?” he asked rhetorically. “Out of everything I did, my achievements and failures, Nurmengard is all that is left. I built this prison from the ground up, and I will die here as many others did before me. My penance is light compared to the things I did, Harry, none of which weighs heavy on me. That should be enough to tell you why I should never be allowed to leave this place.”

“You have always been kind to me.”

“To you, but very few others,” Gellert said with a fond smile. “I lack the capacity to care deeply, something I lost the day Albus and I parted ways. I suppose I will only grow even more bitter when that damned curse takes him.”

“You will miss him?”

Gellert nodded.

“I already do, Harry,” he sighed. “Albus has been my one constant. Cassie has been there, of course, and you for a small part of my life. Albus was my first real friend; the only person who ever truly understood me. I shall be quite lost without him. Anyway, you have more important things to concern you instead of the drivelling of an old man. Go on, I expect you have much to consider before you put your plan into action.”

“Do you think I am doing the right thing?”

“I do,” Gellert assured Harry. “If you did not have the Hallows to assist you, I would say you were a damned fool, but given the circumstances, I believe you would be safe undertaking this alone. It will be dangerous, but more so if you are not entirely focused on the task at hand. You cannot do that if you are worrying about others.”

“That was my own thinking,” Harry murmured. “Thank you, Gellert.”

“Think nothing of it,” Gellert said dismissively. “I look forward to hearing how it goes when you visit next.”

“It will be soon,” Harry promised. “As soon as I’ve done it, I’ll come and share the memory with you. I’m sure you’ll get a kick out of it.”

“I expect nothing less,” Gellert chuckled.

He watched as the young man left, still carrying the weight of the world upon his shoulders yet somehow remaining in good spirits.

On the surface, at least.

Harry truly had proven to be a rather remarkable young man, and Gellert truly wished him well.

Although Harry did not share the same ambition as him, they were something of kindred spirits with their dedication to magic, and their desire to see their goals come to fruition, no matter the cost.

Gellert had ultimately failed in his, but if there was anyone he had ever met who had instilled faith within him that they would be successful, it was, without doubt, Harry Potter.

(Break)

Once more, Cassiopeia found herself within her office much earlier than she would like, the menial work of being the Minister needing to be completed. It was irksome to say the least, but it did serve to keep her mind occupied from the things she’d rather not ponder too deeply.

For her, Harry was a little too eager to be done with the war.

Cassie understood his keenness to put the entire thing to rest so that he could finally live his life without Riddle hanging over him, but she had urged him to remain cautious.

Regardless, there would never be a time she did not worry about the boy in some way or other.

It was the mothering instinct he had awoken in her so many years ago now, and no matter what he achieved, Cassiopeia knew there would be a part of her that would always see him as the little boy that loved nothing more than to play with his wooden dragon.

Things had been so seemingly simple back then.

Yes, Harry had his nightmares to remind of what had happened, but he remained blissfully ignorant of what was to come.

Cassiopeia missed those days, but she could be no prouder of the man Harry was becoming.

“What is it?” she huffed as a knock at the door sounded.

It was a rather grim Amelia Bones that entered.

“We have a problem,” she announced without preamble.

“A problem?”

Bones nodded gravely.

“Neither Dawlish nor Tonks returned from their shifts last night,” she explained. “Dawlish was due to check in at two this morning and Tonks at five. Robards informed me as soon as he arrived two hours ago that they didn’t.”

“Is it so unusual for a pair to forget?”

“Occasionally someone does, but Dawlish and Tonks were not working as a pair. Dawlish was patrolling just outside Bristol, and Tonks was in Manchester, both alone. It cannot be a coincidence that both are missing. Tonks never forgets to check in.”

“Have their homes been checked?”

Amelia nodded.

“There has been no reply from either and no sign that either even returned. No uniforms were found.”

“What is your gut telling you?”

“That something bad has happened.”

Cassiopeia nodded her agreement.

Bones had been within the Auror department for decades now, and she would not ignore the woman’s instincts.

“So, what do we do now?” Cassie asked as she stood.

“I’ve already sent groups to follow their routes to see if anything can be found, but there’s nothing obvious.”

Cassiopeia hummed.

“Girls?” she called.

Lucinda, Ana, and Eleanor entered the office at her request.

“Are any of you good at following magical traces?”

Ana nodded immediately.

“I can find and track the faintest of traces.”

“Good, then you will go with Madam Bones. You too Eleanor. I want to know immediately what you find. We have two missing aurors, and as Bones believes something is wrong, that is what we will assume. I will get a message to Dumbledore. Tonks is one of his.”

Amelia nodded gratefully and gestured for the two younger women to follow her.

“What would you like me to do?” Lucinda asked.

“Nothing for now,” Cassiopeia replied thoughtfully. “If anything else comes up, I will likely need you. Send for the werewolf just in case.”

“The werewolf?”

Cassiopeia nodded.

“Harry would be most displeased if I did not take my security seriously,” she snorted.

Lucinda smirked as she left to do as she was bid and Cassiopeia frowned as she threw a handful of floo powder into the fire.

She could not say that she had spoken to Tonks much.

Her mother had been cast out of the family, and the two of them seemed to have little to say to one another.

Still, this development was certainly concerning, and though she had faith in Ana and Eleanor, it would not hurt to inform Albus.

He would likely have his own way of locating the woman, after all.

(Break)

The building that towered over him was admittedly impressive, the man whose name had spread fear across much of Europe some five decades prior having created quite the masterpiece to house his prisoners.

Perhaps the newer, more dangerous Dark Lord would put it to use when the time was right.

Still, he could not help but respect he auror for her resilience.

Despite everything that had been done to her, she had refused to give up the location until she was on the cusp of death and no longer in any fit state to resist her mind being tore through.

The very thought brought a smirk to Voldemort’s lips.

Auror Tonks had indeed been made of sterner stuff than the average witch or wizard, but as with all others who ever found themselves receiving such attention from the Dark Lord, she had, albeit unwittingly, yielded the information he sought, in the end.

It was a waste of such talent, but she had possessed something he needed, and he had taken it by whatever measures had been necessary.

If she was not dead already, she would be in a matter of hours.

Pushing thoughts of his dalliance with the woman aside, the Dark Lord entered the infamous prison of Nurmengard and began his search of the many floors in earnest, seeking a fool, but a useful one, nonetheless.

(Break)

“What the hell is going on?” Harry demanded to know as he entered the kitchen which seemed to be in a state of chaos.

It wasn’t even lunchtime yet and the Order of the Phoenix had gathered along with Cassiopeia and Amelia Bones, both appearing to be rather concerned by something.

Before any answered, however, a grave Dumbledore entered the kitchen and immediately held up a hand for silence, his expression matching those of Cassiopeia and Amelia.

“This is a severe development,” he murmured unhappily. “Two aurors are missing, one of them being Nymphadora. I do not know why they were targeted, but I do not believe it is merely a consequence. Amelia?”

The redhead stood and cleared her throat.

“Neither were working together, and John Dawlish was taken first from just outside Bristol. With Ana’s help,” she continued, gesturing to the half-elf, “we have established that he was taken after a violent struggle around two hours before Auror Tonks was abducted in Manchester. It appears that she managed to kill two of her assailants before being subdued, but that is where the trail goes cold. We know that portkeys were used to transport around ten people from each location, just not where the arrival point was.”

“Dawlish is a Senior Auror, isn’t he?” Arthur Weasley asked.

“He is,” Amelia confirmed.

“So, they likely targeted him for information that most others, especially a rookie wouldn’t know.”

“That is the assumption I am working with.”

“Then what does Tonks know that Dawlish doesn’t?” Doge broke in.

“Being in the Order, I imagine a considerable amount,” Albus sighed.

“Then why did they not just target her?” Harry questioned. “No, something official has to be the motivation. Is there anything Tonks worked on that Dawlish didn’t but most would assume he had?”

“Pettigrew!” Cassiopeia gasped after a moment of silence had past. “I purposely left him off the transportation team because I wanted people I could trust to take him.”

“Take him where?” Molly Weasley pressed.

“Nurmengard,” Dumbledore whispered worriedly as he stood, followed by Harry and Cassiopeia.

“WAIT!” Sirius called as they hurried from the room.

He caught up with them near the portrait of Walburga Black who had not managed to utter a word for a number of years now.

“If he’s gone after Pettigrew, he won’t get what he wants,” Sirius murmured. “He’s dead.”

“Dead?” Dumbledore asked.

Sirius nodded unashamedly.

“I was drunk and couldn’t help myself. I heard Tonks mention that she had taken him there, and I went. I won’t apologise for it.”

Harry nodded his understanding and gave the man’s shoulder a gentle squeeze.

“He got less than he deserved, no matter what you did to him.”

Sirius offered him a weak smile.

“I couldn’t ignore it, Harry. I tried, but I couldn’t.”

“It’s fine,” Harry assured him sincerely, “but we still have to go.”

“Why?” Sirius asked with a frown.

“I’ll explain later,” Harry replied, ushering the waiting Dumbledore and Cassiopeia towards the front door. “You don’t think…?”

“I do not know, Harry,” Dumbledore replied gravely.

(Break)

Gellert frowned as a loud scream rent the air from somewhere within the prison.

It was different from the ones he had become accustomed to since the rat had arrived.

In his moments of clarity, Pettigrew would weep and plead to be released, and his screams were of despair.

This one had been of unadulterated rage.

His frown deepened as he felt a presence draw nearer to him.

It was not Harry nor Albus that had come, and he was so familiar with Cassiopeia’s magic that he could feel her before she even arrived.

No, this was a blackened aura, the stench of vile magic permeating the air the closer the person came.

Gellert did his best not to flinch at the face that peered into his cell a few moments later.

The serpent-like nostrils and red eyes left him with no doubt whom it was that had come here, and he could not help but grin at the expression of curiosity mixed with petulant anger.

“Is there something you needed?” Gellert asked.

The hairless man continued to stare at him questioningly, his attempt to enter Gellert’s mind brushed aside as though it were a mere inconvenience.

Voldemort may be an expert in the Mind Arts, but Gellert had perfected them even before the man had been conceived.

“Who are you?”

“I might ask the same question of you,” Gellert returned.

“I am Lord Voldemort. You will tell me what happened to the other prisoner.”

“I thought I was alone here,” Gellert replied with a shrug. “I know nothing of any other prisoner.”

“Do not lie to me!” Voldemort hissed.

A smirk tugged at Gellert’s lips.

For one so well-versed in Occlumency, Riddle did not have a firm hold of his emotions.

Perhaps it was a side-effect of creating so many Horcruxes, or perhaps he was just a volatile individual.

“You will tell me your name.”

“Gellert Grindelwald.”

He saw no reason to hide his identity from the other Dark Lord, and the look of surprise he received in return amused Gellert greatly.

“Truly?” Voldemort pressed with a frown.

“I can’t imagine anyone else being locked away for over five decades in this very prison, can you? Now, what can I do you for you?”

Voldemort’s eyes narrowed.

“No, Dumbledore killed you. It is well documented.”

“Albus did defeat me,” Gellert sighed, “but no, I did not perish. He brought me here, and I have lived within my own prison since.”

Voldemort chuckled.

“He always was weak and unwilling to do what is necessary.”

“But Harry Potter isn’t,” Gellert replied darkly.

He would have no one speak ill of Albus.

Yes, the man had his flaws, but he was the most brilliant wizard Gellert had met. Were it not for all the monstrous things Riddle had done to himself, he could not hope to compare to him.

Voldemort’s eyes burned with fury at the mention of Harry.

“What do you know of him?” he demanded.

Gellert smiled, emboldened by the emotional reaction he could elicit within the man so easily.

“I know that your days are numbered,” he replied. “Harry Potter possesses a power that you cannot hope to understand. Everything you have done has been in the pursuit of eternal life. Harry embraces it and your fear of it will be your downfall.”

“I do not fear death!”

“Now who is lying?” Gellert chuckled. “You call yourself a Dark Lord when you were defeated by a mere babe. I brought half of Europe to its knees, and even now there are those that fear me despite believing I died five decades ago. Five decades after you are dead, Britain will laugh at your memory. You will be nothing but a pathetic footnote in anything written about Harry after he finishes with you.”

Voldemort roared as he removed his wand and levelled it at Gellert who stepped closer to the door that separated them.

“Do it,” he urged. “I’m already dead. I am simply waiting for him to come and claim me. I do not fear the end, I embrace what is waiting for me on the other side. You see, that is the difference between you and me. I was always willing to die for my cause, and you hide behind those that have latched onto you.”

Gellert sniffed the air and smirked once more.

“Do you smell that, Riddle? That is the smell of fear and you reek of it. Deep down, you know that your time is up, that you can no longer flee what you fear because it is coming for you in more ways than you can imagine. He will have a power the Dark Lord knows not.”

Voldemort unwittingly flinched at the mention of the prophecy and his wand trembled in his hand.

“If you’re going to kill me, you’d better be quick about it,” Gellert snorted. “You do not have long. They’re here, and you know that you cannot hope to win. Run away, Tom Riddle, it is all you have left.”

“Avada Kedavra!”

Gellert had expected nothing less from his goading, but he had made his choice, and he had no regrets.

He could spend the next several years or even decades in his cell reminiscing the times gone by, or he could make the only decision he had been given any say in since he had been here.

It was a selfish act he knew. But he would sooner his life came to an end on his own terms than continue to simply grow old and wither away within the confines of the same four walls.

In only a matter of months, Albus would be pass on, and Gellert had pondered what life would be without both his greatest foe and oldest friend.

It would be bleak, and he would merely spend his time now until death came for him praying for his own sweet release of the shackles that bound him.

This way, there would be no painful interim to endure.

Some may say that it was cowardice on his part, but that was something Gellert had never been.

It was no such thing.

On the contrary, he felt a sense of boldness having given Voldemort a piece of his mind and speaking the truth he felt in his heart.

Harry would triumph over him, and Gellert hoped there was a special place in hell for Tom Riddle.

Harry no longer needed him as he once had, after all, and Cassie would have the young man until her dying breath, of that, Gellert was certain.

With Albus joining him on their next great adventure soon, as the doddering fool was wont to say from time to time, Gellert Grindelwald’s own was somewhat poetic.

As such, he held his arms open wide as the sickly green curse approached, and as he had assured Tom Riddle only a moment prior, he welcomed death as an old friend, his final thought focused on just how at peace he finally felt after so very long.

(Break)

“He’s here,” Harry whispered before immediately setting off into a run through the corridors of Nurmengard, drawing his wand.

“HARRY, WAIT!” Cassiopeia called, her plea falling on deaf ears.

Albus could only follow the duo, the younger man quickly putting some distance between them.

The headmaster gasped as they reached a particularly long hallway and he watched Harry fade from view with every step he took until he shot upwards when he was barely a shadow in the fading light.

Albus had never seen anything of the sort, nor felt anything so cold wash over him in the wake of the magic.

“Unbelievable,” he whispered as he continued on his way.

Harry had simply flown through the ceiling, and likely several more above him in his efforts to reach the uppermost cell.

It took several moments before he and Cassiopeia made it to the wing that housed Gellert, and it was once more the magic of the young man that washed over them.

The magic itself was of a cold fury, and as they rounded the final corner, they found Harry staring into the cell, his knuckles white from how tightly he was gripping the bars.

Without warning, there was a loud groan before Harry ripped the door away from its fixings, a feat that should not have been possible.

“Oh, Gellert,” Albus choked as he came upon the scene that Harry had been looking upon.

Were it not for the man lying on the stone floor, it could be mistaken that he was sleeping peacefully.

An almost triumphant grin remained on his lips; a final act of defiance if there ever was one or was it something else.

Regardless, Gellert had found a semblance of peace in his final moments, and it would forever be etched onto his face.

Albus had no recollection of doing so, but the next moment of clarity he had, he found himself on his knees with Gellert’s head resting in his lap as he murmured his grief to the one man who he’d considered his equal in all things.

He may have been misguided in his efforts, but it could not be denied that Gellert Grindelwald had been one of the greatest wizards of their age, and yet, he had been executed like a common criminal.

Albus could not remember the last time he had wept, perhaps the day he had laid Ariana to rest, but he did so now, unashamedly.

Cassiopeia too was crying silently as she grasped Gellert’s hand, seemingly willing him to come back to them.

He wouldn’t.

Gellert was dead, and not even the stone that Harry possessed could truly bring him back.

The young man seemed to be considering that very notion as he rubbed his thumb over the ring, shaking his head as his gaze hardened.

“Coward,” he hissed. “He killed an unarmed man, and for what?”

“Because he could,” Albus answered. “Only because he could, Harry.”

Harry’s nostrils flared.

“Does Gellert have arrangements for what would happen when he…?”

Albus shook his head.

“No, I do not believe so.”

“Then he will be buried in Godric’s Hollow,” Harry decided. “It is where the two of you first met. I will set aside a plot close to my parents for him. I do not believe your brother would be pleased if we buried him with your own family.”

“He would not,” Albus agreed. “Are you sure about this, Harry?”

Harry nodded.

“He shouldn’t be laid to rest here. He spent fifty years of his life stuck in this tower. I think that is more than enough for anyone. I think he would like Godric’s Hollow. It was likely where he spent his best years. Cassie?”

The woman nodded mutely.

None would ever associate her with such sentiment, yet here she was, mourning for the man who had taken her under his wing when she was little more than a girl.

For the past five decades, she had remained loyal until the very end, and Albus knew Gellert treasured their friendship as much as he did his.

“Then it’s decided,” Harry declared. “He will receive the burial he deserves, for everything he did for me, for all of us. I will make the arrangements.”

“Thank you, Harry,” Albus said gratefully.

He was not sure if he could manage it, not with how swamped with grief he was.

Harry simply nodded before turning to leave him and Cassie to their mourning.

“What of Tonks and Dawlish?” Albus asked worriedly.

Harry paused and shook his head.

“Tonks and Dawlish are already dead.”

Albus released a deep sigh.

He did not know Dawlish well.

He had been a gifted student during his time at Hogwarts and had proven himself a capable Auror over the years.

Nymphadora, however, was someone he had come to know well recently.

She had been a vibrant woman, and one as talented as any that had passed through the castle during his tenure.

The past twenty-four hours had been nothing short of a heart-breaking disaster, and for Albus, the heartbreak had only just truly begun.