Year 6-11: Running the Gauntlet

A/N: A few people have reported issues with chapters randomly disappearing on this site. I don't know what's causing this bug, but if the site continues to glitch out and causes you to miss segments of the story, remember that you can always find this fic under the same username and title on AO3, being updated simultaneously.

Dahlia's return to Hogwarts was a momentous occasion for the student body. Harry had never realized quite how popular she was until she walked into the Great Hall at breakfast on a Wednesday, just two and a half weeks after her accident. There was a loud cheer from the Gryffindor Table as her friends rushed to greet her, and nearly the entire Hall stood to applaud for her.

Harry supposed it made sense. Half the school had been helped by Dahlia in the Hospital Wing over the past few years, and she had the same benefit Harry had of being the child of two highly-popular professors (and a Minister). Besides, she'd now been the victim of three separate attacks at the school – first in the Chamber of Secrets incident, then the kidnapping plot of last year, and now the cursed necklace. And through it all she wore a smile and a positive attitude – no wonder she was so beloved.

He glanced over at the Slytherin Table to gauge their reaction. Draco and his mates were sitting in a corner, separate from the others, not paying attention to the commotion. Draco briefly glanced up and made eye contact with Harry, before quickly looking back down at his plate in fear. Good, Harry thought angrily. Be afraid. Don't even think about trying something like that again, or you'll get ten times worse what she got.

Harry made his way over to his sister and pulled her in for a hug. "Glad you're okay, idiot," he whispered in her ear.

"Can't get rid of me that easily, numskull," Dahlia whispered back, giving him a sly wink as they pulled apart. Her smile suddenly evaporated as she spotted someone behind Harry; he turned to see Neville timidly approaching them.

"Welcome back, Dahlia," he said nervously. "Can we talk?"

"Er...yes, alright," Dahlia said breathlessly. Neville held out a shaky hand, and she tentatively took it. They walked out of the Hall together as the student body whispered among themselves. Harry wondered if the two would manage to reconcile their differences and get back together over this. But frankly, he wasn't that invested in the saga. He had more important things on his mind than teenage romance.

He had settled his plans for another voyage outside the castle that very weekend. It would be his longest journey by far, and possibly his most dangerous. Viktor Krum had written him recently, mentioning that he had a week off of Quidditch in early March, and Harry leapt on the opportunity, asking if he could come visit in Bulgaria. A surprised Krum agreed, though he did not understand how that would work logistically – Harry assured him that he would figure that part out himself.

Bulgaria was way too far to Apparate to, and he would have to find a way to travel illegally without alerting the Ministry of either country. But Harry was starting to get a knack for such underground dealings...you could find just about anything you needed in Knockturn Alley after all, if you had the confidence and wherewithal to ask in the right places.

Harry awoke early that Saturday, getting up for his usual morning run. However, today he brought along a small bag, stuffed with a change of clothes, a coin purse, and a few other things he might need over the next 48 hours. He took off for the lake, running his usual few laps to get the blood pumping and work off some of the excess energy he now had thanks to the rabbit ritual.

As the sun rose over Hogwarts, Harry paused at the far bank to collect his bag. Normally he would return to his dorm for a quick shower before breakfast, but today, Cleaning Charms would have to suffice. "Dobby!" he called into the cool morning air.

A soft pop heralded the arrival of the diminutive elf. "Is Mister Harry Potter requiring assistance?" the house-elf asked.

"Yes," Harry nodded. "Can you take me to Raven House?"

Dobby looked concerned at this request. "Mister Harry Potter is not performing any more dangerous rituals at the Raven House?" he asked nervously.

"Not today, Dobby," Harry reassured him. "I'm just grabbing a few things from there before moving on."

Dobby nodded uncertainly, taking Harry's hand and Disapparating from the grounds. They arrived at the safe house, which despite the gloomy atmosphere had become something of a welcome sight for Harry. Dahlia had spent her brief time there making the space more habitable, and now it was a cozy home away from home – a true safe space for Harry to relax and put his guard down, if only for a few hours at a time.

Harry headed straight up to the potions room to check on his latest brews. Dahlia had transformed the space into a clean, fully-functional lab, with perfectly-spaced cauldrons, a proper cabinet for storing supplies, and a ventilation system carrying harmful fumes out of the house entirely. He approached the nearest cauldron, removing the Stasis Charm from the lid to peer inside. The Blood Replenisher looked like exactly the right color; moving on to the next two cauldrons, so did the Stamina Potion and generalized poison antidote.

Harry approached the cabinet and withdrew a small glass vial. He aimed his wand at it, transfiguring it to add multiple compartments, similar to the Auror's Toolkit that Moody gifted him in his fourth year. He then used a Protean Charm to copy the vial multiple times, allowing him to create a mini-arsenal of toolkits he could bring with him for whatever the situation called for.

Over the next half-hour, Harry carefully ladled each of the three completed potions into a separate compartment of each toolkit. When he was done, he had a dozen mini-toolkits, each containing three filled compartments and a couple extra empty ones for future use. He wasn't sure what he would fill them with yet – that depended on what ingredients he could afford for future brews. Harry stuffed two toolkits into his bag, one into his robes, and the rest into the cabinet for storage.

Finally, Harry returned downstairs to sort through the pile of clothing he'd brought with him. He undressed and put on the shield items Fred and George had gifted him: undershirt, underpants, socks, a neck chain, and a bracelet for both wrists. Satisfied, he put the rest of his clothes on over them, leaving little indication that he was fully protected from most curses. Sure, a Killing Curse would still end his life, but most things short of that would be absorbed by the powerful enchantments woven into the material.

There was only one stop left now. After applying his usual glamour disguise, Harry Apparated to Knockturn Alley, striding confidently down the main cobblestone path. Long gone were the days he feared these back streets...he knew he was the most dangerous person here now. Nobody would mess with him, and if he did, they'd regret it.

Harry strode into Borgin and Burke's, walking up to the front counter and ringing the bell, which summoned Borgin from the storeroom to greet him.

"Can I help you?" Borgin grunted.

"Yes," said Harry. "I'm in need of an international portkey."

"Where to?"

"Bulgaria."

Borgin wrinkled his nose. "Long journey," he remarked. "You can catch a ride for fairly cheap from the Department of Magical Transportation."

Harry scoffed at this. "Do you think I would be here, if I wanted the Ministry to know where I was going?" he asked.

Borgin chuckled a little at this quip. "No, I suppose you wouldn't," he muttered. "I can make you one, but it'll cost you eighty Galleons."

"That's outrageous," said Harry. "The Ministry only charges ten."

"Yeah, well, you won't go to Azkaban for using one of theirs, will ya?" Borgin retorted. "Besides, I'm takin' a big risk in makin' it. You could be an undercover Auror for all I know."

"I'll pay you thirty for it," said Harry.

"Seventy-five."

"Forty."

"Seventy-five."

"I'm not paying that much!"

"Then you can go. It ain't worth the trouble to me."

Harry considered this. "Fine," he sighed, reaching into his cloak for his coin purse. He didn't want to waste all day haggling – besides, he had no clue where else to obtain an illegal international portkey, or even how to make one himself. He counted out the gold (most of his remaining funds) and placed it on the counter, which Borgin greedily counted out and scooped into a purse of his own.

"Wait here," said Borgin. He retreated into the storeroom, giving Harry a few moments alone in the store. He strolled through the narrow aisles, peering at the various dark items in glass displays. He couldn't remember exactly if the necklace that cursed Dahlia had come from here, but it made sense...where else would he have seen and recognized such a thing? Many of the items here were saturated with the same malicious magic he'd sensed from the necklace after his sister accidentally touched it in Hogsmeade.

Eventually Borgin returned from the back, carrying a small silver comb. "Here you are," he said, placing it gently on the counter. "This will take you to a remote location, ten miles north of the Bulgarian Ministry. The return journey will take you to Epping Forest, just northeast of London. Do not activate it anywhere within five miles of a major magical dwelling, or you may trigger the international detection wards. This is the activation phrase."

Borgin showed Harry a slip of parchment, upon which was scribbled the word 'Jobberknoll'. As soon as Harry read it, Borgin set the parchment aflame, burning the evidence. Easy enough to remember, Harry thought. But also obscure enough not to come up in casual conversation by accident.

"Understood," said Harry, pocketing the small comb. "I'll be discreet."

"Anything else I can do for you?" asked Borgin.

"Yes, actually," said Harry. "I'm looking for a necklace that was sold here last summer. A cursed necklace, inset with blue opals."

Borgin eyed him suspiciously. "Doesn't sound familiar," he said dubiously.

"You sure?" Harry pressed. "Wouldn't be good for business if it was used to harm someone and got traced back to your shop."

"And how would they do that?" Borgin scoffed. "We don't keep ledgers on such things. In fact, how dare you insinuate that any of my wares are cursed?"

"Really?" Harry laughed, approaching a nearly glass display. "So if I reached in and touched this chalice, I'd be just fine?" He could sense the Rotting Curse lurking on the rim of the cup, similar to the one protecting the false ring in the Gaunt Shack.

"I wouldn't recommend it," Borgin sneered. "Many of these items are bought secondhand. We are not responsible for the condition of said items."

"How negligent of you," Harry deadpanned. "I'll be going now, Borgin. I'd be careful about selling dangerous artifacts to Hogwarts students in the future." And he departed the shop, leaving a stunned-looking Borgin behind him. He knew he'd never be able to prove Borgin sold Malfoy the cursed necklace – not that it mattered now. He wouldn't get the answers he was looking for without Veritaserum, which would take a long time for him to brew.

Harry Apparated back to Raven House before pulling out the portkey. He knew for a fact that there were no wizarding establishments anywhere for dozens of miles, so according to Borgin, he should be safe to activate it without triggering any detection wards. He grasped the silver comb firmly in his palm, bracing himself for an uncomfortable flight before whispering: "Jobberknoll."

He felt the familiar jerk behind the navel as the portkey activated and whisked him away. The dizzying, spinning sensation lasted for much longer than he was accustomed to, no doubt thanks to the prolonged journey to Bulgaria over a thousand miles away. Finally, mercifully, his feet landed on solid ground, and he managed to steady himself without falling to the dirt before looking around.

Harry found himself standing atop a tall hillside, overlooking a wide valley below. In the distance he could see the sprawling urban center of Sofia, Bulgaria's capital city, laid out before him. He had never visited the city before, but had researched it once and knew of a couple famous landmarks. He envisioned one in his mind before closing his eyes and Disapparating on the spot.

He reappeared in the center of Nevsky Square, in the shadow of a large cathedral. Muggles passed him by, too busy to notice the strangely-dressed teen who had appeared literally out of thin air (they never were too observant). Harry checked his watch – it was 11:30 local time, giving him half an hour before he was due to meet Krum.

He strolled casually through the square, taking in the sights and sounds of the city. The city had an air of ancient grandeur to it, and he could feel the latent magic in the air from nearby hidden wizarding establishments. Harry followed the pull of magic towards the downtown area, where he eventually came across another ornate square centered around an aging rotunda. He cast a subtle Confundus Charm on one of the Muggle security officers before hopping a fence and sneaking onto the rotunda property.

He followed his senses until he came upon a wall that didn't seem like a proper wall. Harry placed his hand to the wall and it passed straight through – a hidden passageway, much like the one dividing Platform 9 from the rest of King's Cross station. Harry passed through and descended several flights of stairs before emerging on a vast underground concourse, stretching far beyond his sight line. A sign in a foreign language greeted him; Harry tapped his wand to his glasses, and the sign auto-translated itself for him: 'Welcome to the Bulgarian Ministry of Magic.'

Krum had said that he would meet Harry at the central fountain at noon. Harry located the place fairly quickly, and it was no surprise why – Krum had already arrived. And unfortunately for the Quidditch star, he'd been spotted almost immediately, mobbed by eager fans wishing to grasp his hand, to obtain a signature from him.

Bemused, Harry joined the mess of people jostling for position and eventually pushed forward through the crowd towards Krum. "Viktor, Viktor!" Harry said excitedly, thrusting a piece of parchment towards him. Krum sighed and took it, intending to sign his name, but paused when he read what Harry had scribbled upon the parchment: 'It's Harry Potter in disguise. Can you get us out of here?'

Ever the professional, Krum merely smiled and scribbled something on the parchment before handing it back. Harry retreated and re-opened the parchment; rather than a signature beneath his own text, Krum had written: 'Follow me to the alley.'

"Sorry, sorry, I must go," Krum eventually apologized, extricating himself from the crowd and taking off down the concourse. Disappointed fans began to disperse, as Harry casually began to stroll in the direction Krum had gone. He nearly lost the man in the crowd, weaving in between people and eventually ducking into an alleyway between two buildings. Harry followed suit, entering the alleyway, only to find himself with a wand pointed in his face.

"Identify yourself," Krum demanded.

"Harry James Potter," said Harry with his hands up in surrender. "We competed together in the Triwizard Tournament. You helped me and my father at the ICW summit last summer, but Lucius Malfoy sabotaged our plans."

Krum nodded and lowered his wand."It is best that ve are not seen together," he warned. "If any reporters spotted me and took photographs, they vould deduce your identity at once and vonder what you are doing in Bulgaria."

Krum offered his arm, which Harry accepted, feeling the world twist into nothingness as they Apparated away. Fortunately the journey was not nearly so long this time, as they touched down in an ornate garden. Harry looked up and whistled; they were standing outside an opulent Victorian-style manor...a sprawling estate that looked more like a royal palace than a private dwelling.

"This place is nice," Harry remarked. "Does your family own it?"

Krum gave him an odd look. "I own it," he clarified. "I am a Seeker, remember?"

"Oh...right," Harry chuckled. Krum was one of the most famous athletes in the world – of course he would be able to afford such extravagance.

Still, he was in awe as he followed Krum up the steps to the entrance and into the manor. Harry marveled at the luxurious interiors and the sweeping views of the well-kept grounds outside. There was even a miniature Quidditch pitch in the backyard, which Harry yearned to use at least once before leaving.

Eventually they wound up in the kitchen, sitting around the table munching on the food Krum's house-elf, Stara, had procured. "So, Harry," said Krum, "you vere quite cryptic in your letters. Vot brings you to Bulgaria, exactly?"

"Er...well, to be honest, I'm looking for information," said Harry. "First, about a ritual I just performed a couple of weeks ago."

He described the semi-botched rabbit ritual in great detail, including the collapsed lungs that had resulted. Krum listened impassively, merely nodding along to the story until Harry finished.

"That sounds quite bad," Krum chuckled. "I have heard of rituals being contaminated by potion fumes before, and the results could have been much worse."

"Do you think there could be long-term dangers?" Harry asked worriedly.

"No, I think not," Krum shrugged. "If you survived the initial effects and reversed the damage to your lungs straight away, you should be fine. As long as you weren't brewing anything toxic, like a poison?"

"No, just some Blood Replenishers and Stamina Potions and the like."

"Then in that case, you may have some positive effects from the contamination," Krum shrugged. "Better stamina and blood regeneration, perhaps."

That made a surprising amount of sense to Harry. He had far more stamina now than ever before, and had attributed it solely to the ritual and Phantom's sacrifice, but perhaps the potions next door had also contributed to his rapid growth.

"That's good to hear," Harry sighed with relief. "I also wanted to follow up about something I asked in a previous letter. About the Elder Wand. Do you know anything about it?"

"Oh, that," Krum sighed. "I am sorry, Harry, but I have not heard of such a wand. It was never mentioned in Durmstrang curriculum, nor did Karkaroff speak of it during my private tutoring."

"I see," Harry frowned. "You never even read The Tales of Beedle the Bard?"

"No, what is this?" asked Krum, confused. "An autobiography?"

"A book of fairy tales," said Harry. "One of them tells the story of the Deathly Hallows."

"The what?"

Harry gave Krum an abridged version of 'The Tale of the Three Brothers', and the theory that the Hallows were tied to the Peverell family. Krum listened attentively, but when Harry finished, he merely shrugged.

"I have never heard of these objects," said Krum. "Ve do not have such fairy tales in Bulgaria."

Harry was disappointed by the answer, but he supposed he couldn't be surprised. The story centered around British wizards, if the Peverell family was indeed linked to the three brothers in the story, and likely never made its way this far into the continent.

"There is a symbol associated with them," said Harry. "Have you ever seen it?" He drew his wand and traced it through the air, drawing the triangle, circle, and line overhead. To his surprise, Krum scowled at the sight.

"You should not show that symbol again in Bulgaria," he muttered. "It is considered a hate symbol here."

"It is?" said Harry, surprised. "Why?"

"That is Grindelwald's mark," said Krum. "He used it to instill fear in his enemies during the war. Displaying that mark in public is no different than waving a swastika flag in the Muggle world."

"Interesting," Harry muttered. He wondered how Krum would react to knowing that the symbol was prominently displayed in the graveyard of Godric's Hollow, and decided to keep that to himself. "Why would Grindelwald use the same symbol of the Hallows for his own purposes?"

Krum pondered this for a moment. "I suppose we could ask my grandfather," he shrugged. "He fought in the Grindelwald Wars fifty years ago."

"Great!" said Harry. "Does he live close by?"

"Very close," Krum chuckled, getting to his feet. "He's in the east wing, just down the hall. Come with me."

Harry followed Krum through the manor as he explained the situation to him. "Grandfather was disabled from a dark curse during the war," Krum explained. "My grandmother cared for him until her death three years ago, and I volunteered to take over his care."

"That was thoughtful of you," Harry remarked. He already thought highly of Krum, but such a gesture only further cemented what a great person he was. To be barely seventeen, a budding international star with the world at his fingertips, and take on such a heavy burden? It reflected well upon him as a man.

They arrived at a set of closed double doors down the hall, and Krum paused to knock before pushing them open. They walked into what looked like a large library. Large shelves filled with heavy tomes lined the walls from floor to ceiling – thousands of books, some looking quite ancient. Harry could only imagine Hermione's reaction to seeing such a sanctuary for book lovers and knowledge-seekers.

Krum began saying something in rapid Bulgarian. Harry looked wildly around the room, unable to locate the recipient of the words. Movement in his peripherals caught his eye, and he spotted an older man seated on what looked like a floating disc, hovering up near the vaulted ceiling. The man floated down towards them, and Harry realized he had no legs – this must be his version of a wheelchair, only a magical one that allowed him to float freely throughout the room.

Krum and his grandfather began to converse in Bulgarian, leaving Harry lost. He reached into his robes and pulled out a pair of Muggle earbuds, which he had brought specifically for this purpose. He nestled one in his ear and tapped his wand to it, applying a Translation Charm so that he could understand what was being said.

At once the rapid flow of conversation switched to English, and he was able to understand the elder man's diatribe. "...feeding me garbage all day long," the man was muttering in a disgruntled tone. "Her cooking has gotten worse, I tell you!"

"I will tell Stara you are dissatisfied with her meals," Krum said in a somewhat annoyed tone. "You are of course welcome to come downstairs and prepare your own meals?"

"Pah! I am too old and tired for such things," the man scoffed. "Just tell her to make better food! And who the hell is this?"

The old man's eyes landed on Harry, scrutinizing him. "Grandfather, this is my friend from Britain, Harry Potter," said Krum. "Harry, this is my grandfather, Nikolai Krum."

"Pleasure to meet you, sir," said Harry, extending a hand.

"Britain, you say?" Nikolai spat, sounding disgusted. "Are you a damned coward like the rest of your countrymen?"

"Er...come again?" asked Harry, confused.

"Grandfather, not this again…" Krum groaned, but Nikolai would not be deterred.

"You Brits left us to rot in the Grindelwald Wars!" said Nikolai, waggling a finger in Harry's face. "Refused to join the fight until the final year, when it was all but won! And then that bastard Dumbledore took all the credit!"

"Grandfather, don't be rude…" Krum sighed, cringing slightly at the rebuke.

"It's alright," Harry reassured him. It seemed to be a common sentiment on the continent...it partially explained the ICW's unwillingness to provide troops for Britain's ongoing war efforts. "We're dealing with a Dark Lord problem of our own right now."

"Yes, my grandson has explained the situation to me," said Nikolai dismissively, floating off in his hover chair to return a heavy book to a high shelf. "First British Dark Lord in over four centuries. Can't be that dangerous, though, if he could be defeated by an infant."

"He's a much bigger threat than you know, sir," said Harry. "Perhaps even greater than Grindelwald."

That got Nikolai's attention. He zoomed back over to Harry, a surly scowl on his face. "You know nothing about Gellert Grindelwald!" he snapped. "He nearly conquered all of Europe and the Americas in less than a decade! I would know – I fought him myself on the battlefield."

"You fought Grindelwald personally?" asked Harry, surprised.

"How do you think I lost my legs?" Nikolai scoffed. "I've never seen anyone fight like him. Cutting down swaths of people like it was nothing. Killing men by the dozens with a single swipe of his wand. I only survived by taking shelter among the bodies of my fallen comrades, but even then it was a close thing."

Harry realized he didn't know that much about the Grindelwald Wars and how they were fought. He knew only that it happened concurrently with World War II in the Muggle world, and that Dumbledore had defeated Grindelwald in the end. But he hadn't realized how bloody and protracted the conflict had been, which only made the distaste towards the British that much more understandable.

"Grandfather, we had a history question for you," said Krum awkwardly. "Have you ever heard of an unbeatable wand? The Deathstick, or the Wand of Destiny?"

"Oh, sure," Nikolai chuckled. "It was a legend shared among ICW troops, more often from the Western European nations. I always assumed it was a wives' tale, something too good to be true. But the Grindelwald Wars made me reconsider."

"Reconsider how?" asked Harry, intrigued.

"There were many stories about Grindelwald that didn't make sense," said Nikolai. "He had a knack for getting out of tight corners when all seemed lost. One French commander swore up and down that he had the man dead to rights in a battle in Kursk, but he somehow held off the spellfire of twenty men by himself until backup arrived. Another Polish soldier said he had a clear shot at Grindelwald's back during a skirmish, but he managed to block the Killing Curse with inhuman reaction time. They said the man's wand appeared to have a mind of its own at times."

"You think Grindelwald had the Elder Wand?" Harry frowned.

"If such a wand existed, then sure," Nikolai shrugged. "He did things no mortal wizard should be able to do. Perhaps he was just better than the rest of us, but I'm not so sure. In the end he fell like a mortal man, didn't he?"

Harry contemplated this for a moment. The pieces were falling into place in his mind...had Grindelwald found the Elder Wand? They were certainly in the right region for it – the trail had gone cold just one country to the south of them. Had he adopted the symbol of the Hallows after mastering the Wand, using it to sow terror and chaos across the continent?

But one thing still didn't quite make sense. "But surely he didn't have the Elder Wand," he muttered. "If it was truly unbeatable, how did Dumbledore defeat him?"

"From what you've described, it sounds like it isn't as unbeatable as they say," Krum pointed out. "Hasn't it changed hands many times over the centuries?"

Krum had a point. Harry had read about the bloody history of the wand...if it was truly infallible, surely it would have served its original master until his natural death, rather than allow him to be killed. Maybe the 'unbeatable' part was the actual wives' tale, and the wand was just uncommonly powerful but could still change allegiances if a better wizard came along.

But then, if Grindelwald did have the Elder Wand, and Dumbledore defeated him, what had happened to it afterwards? Was Dumbledore aware of its existence? Had he claimed the wand for himself, or was it buried with its last owner?

"Where is Grindelwald buried?" Harry wondered aloud.

"Buried?" Nikolai guffawed. "As if we would let that sonuvabitch off easy with death! He's been locked up in Nurmengard for over fifty years now!"

"What's Nurmengard?" asked Harry.

"Grindelwald's prison, in Switzerland," said Nikolai. "He designed it himself to hold political prisoners during the war. An impenetrable fortress, impossible to escape. Only to be placed in there himself at the war's end – poetic irony, don't you think?"

"Wait, so...Grindelwald is still alive?" asked Harry.

"Yes, yes, haven't I said that?" Nikolai said impatiently. "The coward Dumbledore couldn't finish the job, so he handed the man over to the ICW instead and pissed off back to Britain. Last I heard Grindelwald was still kicking – the powerful ones never could bring themselves to die young, could they?"

This was news to Harry. He had always just assumed Dumbledore had killed him in their battle in 1945 – but then again, Dumbledore said himself he'd never taken a life before. At once Harry knew he had to learn more about their battle, and he certainly wasn't going to ask Dumbledore about it. That left one other person to talk to.

"How do you get to Nurmengard?" asked Harry.

"You wish to speak to Gellert Grindelwald yourself?" asked a bewildered Nikolai. "Best of luck to you, boy. It's heavily guarded, and multiple wannabe dark wizards have tried and failed to break him out to further their own gains over the years."

"Harry is only joking, Grandfather," Krum chuckled nervously. "Sorry to bother you – we'll leave you in peace." And he motioned for Harry to follow him from the library; Nikolai returned to his books as Harry and Krum departed, closing the double doors behind them.

"For your sake, I do hope you were joking," Krum said in an undertone. "Trying to get into Nurmengard is a death wish."

"Understood," Harry chuckled. "I wasn't planning on it." Though truthfully, the idea was suddenly very appealing to him...if Grindelwald did in fact possess the Elder Wand, Harry wanted to know exactly how he got it, what he knew about it, and where it was now.

But he would have to ponder this another day. For now, Harry intended to enjoy the rest of his stay in Bulgaria. He and Krum went out to fly on the pitch, racing around on Firebolts for hours. They cooled off with a swim in the underground pool, followed by a stop at the in-house sauna that had Harry feeling like a burned vegetable, with Krum laughing hysterically at how red Harry's skin got from the steam.

The sun began to dip low in the sky, and Krum instructed Stara to prepare a lavish five-course meal for them. Harry tried to insist otherwise, but Krum wouldn't hear it – soon they were eating some of the best food Harry had ever tasted, including ribeye steaks, creamy mashed potatoes, and crisp sauteed vegetables. Even Nikolai came down from his isolated wing to grab several plates before grumpily floating off again.

An hour later, Harry and Krum sat opposite the table from one another, nursing their full bellies. "Well, this is normally around the time I vould go out to enjoy the nightlife," Krum remarked, glancing at the clock. "Anything you vould like to do tonight?"

"Actually, yes," Harry said nervously. "I've recently been, er, looking to make some money in the dueling scene. I'm underage, of course, so I can't join any sanctioned tournaments. Do you know of any...discreet places I could compete in disguise?"

Krum eyed Harry with surprise as he considered the request. "I have been invited to such establishments before," he muttered. "There is good money to be made, but I have seen ugly things take place. Men have died, or been brutally dismembered. Do you truly wish to take that risk?"

"I do," Harry nodded. "I'm confident I can win." If he could stand toe-to-toe against Albus Dumbledore, he failed to see how any random duelist could stand a chance, even in an unsanctioned environment.

Krum sighed heavily, as if unsure if he should humor this request. "Very well," he said. "I will take you."

So an hour later, Harry and Krum Apparated back to the Bulgarian Ministry, walking down the mostly-empty concourse. Harry had applied his glamour already, and Krum had his hood up, preventing any would-be fans from flocking toward him as they had earlier that day.

"Why is the place so close to the Ministry?" Harry asked in a whisper. "Seems risky."

"Da, but that is part of the brilliance," Krum responded. "No one vould think to look there, and any spikes in powerful magic usage would be disguised by the latent magic of the Ministry. Now come, we are nearly there."

Krum led the way through several side passageways until they arrived at a small courtyard. Only one storefront had its lights on: a small coffee shop, which was still bustling despite the late hour. Coffee this late at night? Harry wondered. Perhaps it was a cultural quirk of Bulgarians, or perhaps there was more to the place than met the eye.

And the latter proved to be true almost straight away. Krum led the way into the shop, passing through the light crowds to the back. A man sat lazily on a stool, looking nonchalant, but Harry could tell he was subtly guarding something. Krum leaned in and whispered something in the man's ear, and he nodded and waved them past. Krum led the way down a narrow hallway and through a doorway, beckoning for Harry to follow.

The door gave way to a narrow spiral staircase, winding down into the ground. Harry realized at once that the setup was nearly identical to that of the Spiked Chalice in Knockturn Alley. And indeed, when they emerged at the foot of the steps, they found themselves in a large club environment, as loud music pulsed through the space and drunken revelers partied all around them.

"Viktor!" a genial voice called out; Harry turned as a burly man approached and wrapped Krum in a hug. They spoke in rapid Bulgarian to one another; Harry rummaged through his robes for his enchanted earbud, sticking it in his ear so that he could understand everything being said.

"...busier than usual tonight," the burly man was saying to Krum. "You picked a great night. Shall I round up some women for you to choose from?"

"No, friend, not tonight," Krum said politely. "I've come to watch the fights. My friend here wishes to participate."

The burly man sized up Harry. "You wish to run the Gauntlet?" he asked.

"Er—" Harry hesitated. The Gauntlet? What does that mean? He figured something must have been lost in translation, so he just went with it. "Yes, I do."

"Splendid!" the man smiled, clapping his hands together. "Meet me in the back in ten minutes."

"You are certain you want to do this?" Krum muttered as the man sauntered off. "This may be quite dangerous."

"I'm sure," Harry nodded.

"Best of luck, then," Krum nodded. "I vill be watching. Now excuse me, I must mingle." And he headed off to greet others around the room.

Harry spent the next few minutes wandering around the club, taking in the sights and sounds. He politely declined a few invitations from scantily-clad women to join them for drinks, knowing it was likely a scam. He watched Krum effortlessly glide around the room socializing – it was clear this was a high-end establishment, as nobody fawned over him like the fans had earlier that day. The clientele here seemed wealthy and dangerous, and Harry knew he had to be careful not to draw notice. This was not the kind of place to advertise yourself as the son of a powerful politician.

Eventually the burly man beckoned Harry over to the corner, where two other intimidating-looking men stood waiting. They sized Harry up, who did the same – they looked savvy and street-smart, but Harry felt that he could take them.

"Right, three of you for the Gauntlet tonight," said the event organizer. "Three rounds apiece – survive the first and win 100 Galleons, 300 for the second, 500 for the third. Sound good?"

The other two nodded forlornly. Three rounds with only three participants? Harry thought. How does that work? A thousand Galleons in total was a hefty sum, and he wondered how that worked with no entry fee. But he didn't want to ask too many questions, so he simply nodded along.

"I need names for the crowd," the organizer said. "How will you be called?"

"Hunter," said the first man.

"Renegade," said the second.

Harry paused before giving his own name. He considered using Thestral again, but figured it was best to mix things up from event to event to avoid notice. Besides, he had a better idea now. "Phantom," he replied, deciding to honor the rabbit that had given its life for him.

The organizer nodded and headed off across the room. He took to a makeshift stage and amplified his voice for all to hear.

"Ladies and gentlemen, we have three participants tonight who have agreed to run the Gauntlet!" he announced. "Gather around the arena and place your bets, because we will be beginning shortly."

As with the Spiked Chalice, a false wall fell away to reveal a sunken arena at the back of the establishment. But unlike the last, which was a standard dueling-sized area, this was a sprawling bowl, roughly half the length of a Quidditch pitch. At one end of the arena was the entrance to a tunnel in the wall, sealed off by a large grate, through which odd noises were emanating from within.

"Right, you'll go in one at a time," said the organizer. "Alphabetical order. Hunter, you first."

Hunter nodded and made his way into the pit. We aren't fighting each other? Harry realized. It dawned on him that they would each have to fight whoever – or whatever – was waiting for them on the other side of that grated tunnel. A chill ran down his spine as he pondered what it could be.

"Our first contestant is ready!" the organizer announced. "Igor, release the first beast!"

The grated barrier lifted, opening up the tunnel for whatever lay in wait on the other side. A large, feathered beast burst out, making its displeasure known as it snapped its beak and swiped at open air. A hippogriff. That's not so bad, Harry thought with relief – he could deal with a hippogriff. This one looked somewhat emaciated and malnourished, with slash marks on its haunches indicating frequent abuse. Clearly these animals were not well cared for.

Hunter circled around the beast carefully, as the hippogriff zeroed in on him as a threat. It lunged at Hunter; he deftly stepped aside and fired a Stunner at the creature's flank. It smacked the hippogriff in the side, but only seemed to anger it; it swiped at Hunter, who had to dive for safety to avoid the slash.

"Ooh, nice try there!" the organizer said. "Hunter doesn't realize hippogriff skin is curse-resistant!"

Eventually Hunter wised up to this fact and attempted a new strategy. He summoned thick flames to corral the hippogriff into a tighter space, then began pelting it with heavy rocks, conjured out of thin air and launched at high speed at the poor beast. Harry had to look away, taking no pleasure in seeing such a majestic creature brutalized in such a way.

The hippogriff eventually submitted, retreating and cowering in a corner until the animal handlers rushed out to stop the onslaught. "Hunter finishes the first round through brute force!" said the organizer. "Let's see how Phantom handles the challenge!"

Harry entered the arena as Hunter departed, and the handlers shepherded the injured hippogriff back down the tunnel. A new one emerged from the darkness soon after – similarly malnourished and abused, and even more pissed off than the last one.

"Let's see how Phantom deals with his beast!" the announcer said with glee as the winged creature began to circle Harry menacingly.

The first thing Harry did was lower his head and bow to the great beast. It seemed confused, pawing the ground nervously at the gesture. It looked like it wanted to bow back, but the jeering crowd and hostile atmosphere caused it to tense up, instead squawking angrily at Harry and preparing to charge.

Harry tried the gentlest option first. When the creature charged, he summoned a wave of water, attempting to slow the creature with the deluge and subdue it from there. But the beast dove straight through the water – apparently wherever it had come from, it had a large body of water to play in, like the Hogwarts hippogriffs and the lake. Harry would have to find a more direct method of stopping it.

He waited for the hippogriff to make its next move. When it charged, he rolled out of the way, and twirled his wand to conjure thick vines, tethering the great beast to the ground. It squawked angrily and fought to break free, but Harry conjured more vines, pinning it down and increasing the weight so that it could not move. Eventually it succumbed to the pressure and fell flat to its stomach, pinned unceremoniously but otherwise unharmed.

"A humane solution from Phantom!" the organizer mused as Harry released the beast and retreated from the pit. "Next up is our final challenger, Renegade!"

Harry settled into the crowd to watch as the third man entered the arena. A third hippogriff emerged from the darkness, squawking angrily at him. Renegade looked somewhat intimidated by the winged beast, and from his wild opening salvo of spells, Harry could tell he wasn't accustomed to fighting non-human foes. Most of them splashed harmlessly against the creature's skin; only a Cutting Curse managed to connect, slicing a thin sliver of skin open and causing the hippogriff to caw angrily.

It charged, forcing Renegade to take evasive action. He stumbled as he attempted to dive away; the hippogriff caught him across the back with one of its talons, causing the man to howl in pain. He stumbled away, the back of his shirt growing damp with red. The crowd cheered with bloodlust – this was what they had come to see, not Harry's effective yet dull techniques.

Renegade apparently decided to take after Harry's solution, as when the hippogriff charged again, he conjured vines to pin the creature down. But his were not strong enough to stop it; the vines twisted and ripped as the hippogriff's momentum carried him through the ensnarement. But it gave Renegade time to land a volley of Cutting Curses to the creature's neck and chest, causing it to begin bleeding profusely.

They should end this now, Harry thought miserably as the crowd roared with delight at the sight of the wounded creature. This is cruel. Fortunately, the suffering didn't last much longer, as Renegade tried the vines once more and finally succeeded in pinning the wounded hippogriff, ending the fight.

"Nicely done, nicely done!" the organizer grinned as the hippogriff was dragged back down the tunnel and Renegade returned to the group, wincing from his injuries but still standing upright. The organizer pulled out three small coin purses and tossed one each to the three competitors. "One hundred Galleons, as promised. Ready for round two?"

Hunter and Renegade readily agreed. Harry nodded, though he felt more trepidation than the other two. It seemed too easy...almost like the first round was to entice them to continue. Surely the subsequent creatures would not be so simple to apprehend, and judging by some of the eerie sounds emanating from the grated tunnel, he worried what else might be in store for them.

"All three of our contestants have agreed to move on to round two of the Gauntlet!" the organizer announced gleefully minutes later. "Come and see how our first victim – ahem, fighter will fare with the next challenge!"

Hunter returned to the pit as the grate was once again raised. Harry felt a sense of foreboding as he and the crowd awaited the next creature...whatever it was would be more dangerous than a hippogriff, that was for sure.

But even Harry wasn't prepared when a massive beast charged out of the tunnel, the size of a small bus, bellowing angrily. A Graphorn?! Harry thought with alarm. How the hell did they even get it here? They aren't native to this part of Europe! The huge beast looked furious; it too bore slash marks all over its body, the abuse only making it more dangerous, more bloodthirsty.

Hunter looked intimidated as the beast paced to and fro, the entire arena shaking from its heavy footfalls. The Graphorn eyed him angrily, preparing to charge. Harry had studied Graphorns briefly in preparation for the Third Task, and knew that they were highly dangerous and difficult to control. He wasn't even sure how he would approach this task, and hoped to get some ideas from Hunter.

But he wouldn't get any. The Graphorn charged, giving Hunter little time to react. He fired a flurry of desperate spells at the Graphorn, but they splashed harmlessly off of its spell-resistant hide. A moment later, and Hunter was sent flying through the air, hitting the opposite wall with a sickening crunch.

The Graphorn went in for the kill, tusks poised to spear the man into the ground. However, a small team of animal handlers poured out of the tunnel, conjuring thick ropes to stop the Graphorn in its tracks. It bellowed angrily at them, but they managed to wrestle it under control and back through the tunnel. As soon as it slammed closed behind them, two men rushed into the arena to retrieve Hunter, who was bleeding profusely and unmoving. Harry wasn't even sure if he was alive as they dragged him unceremoniously into a back room for treatment.

"Hell no," a voice scoffed; Harry turned to see the third contestant, Renegade, shake his head and disappear through the crowd towards the exit. Guess it's just me left, he thought to himself. Part of him wanted to follow suit and call it off, but three hundred extra Galleons would go a long way, and he had a couple ideas he wanted to try against the Graphorn.

"Ready to go, Phantom?" asked the organizer. Harry spotted Krum in the crowd, eyeing him nervously, silently willing him to back out.

"Ready," Harry nodded. He gave Krum a nod of reassurance as he descended back into the arena and prepared himself for battle.

The grate lifted, and the Graphorn came rumbling out again, looking twice as angry as before. It locked onto Harry and huffed furiously, no doubt determining how best to rip him from limb to limb.

Harry knew mobility would be key here. The Graphorn was powerful and hard to stop, but also large and cumbersome, not nearly as nimble as Harry. If it charged, and Harry managed to get out of the way, he would have a small window of opportunity to subdue it. It was just a matter of figuring out how exactly to do so.

And Harry didn't have long to contemplate this. The Graphorn charged, lowering its thick skull to ram him into oblivion. Harry didn't even bother with his wand; he waited until the last moment before diving away, rolling cleanly to the side as the Graphorn barreled past. He knew the only weak point in the Graphorn's hide was at its underbelly, which the beast would not easily expose. There was no point in trying to curse it head-on.

The Graphorn wheeled around, huffing angrily at him. Harry readied himself for another charge, which came almost immediately, as the beast lowered its head to ram him. This time, he whipped his wand to conjure thick vines from the ground, just as he had with the hippogriff. It slowed the beast considerably, the vines straining and creaking as they fought to hold the beast back. But they snapped rather easily, sending the beast lurching forward.

Harry dove out of the way, but this time he was a split second too late – he felt a sharp pain in his side as the Graphorn rumbled past. One of its tusks had speared him in the hip; Harry could feel warm blood running down his leg from the wound. But adrenaline pulsed through him, allowing him to still stand. He would need to find a way to win this fight, and fast, before the blood loss began to truly affect him.

Again the Graphorn charged, giving him little time to think. Harry aimed his wand at the ground between them, and there was a mighty boom as the earth lifted up from beneath the Graphorn, momentarily lifting it up into the air. Harry rolled out of its path, firing wildly at its exposed underbelly but failing to do any significant damage. The Graphorn recovered quickly, landing on its side and lunging back to its feet. All Harry had accomplished was making the beast even angrier.

He was going to have to do something drastic to win this fight. A wild idea popped into his head, inspired by his last duel with Dumbledore. It was potentially suicide, but it just might work. He readied himself for another charge, preparing to put his crazy plan into action.

The Graphorn roared and charged once more. Harry once again fired at the ground between them, sending up a smokescreen of dirt, shielding the Graphorn from view. But that did not deter the beast. It charged straight through the dirt, plowing its head straight through the spot Harry was standing—

Except Harry wasn't standing there. Unbeknownst to the Graphorn, Harry had transfigured the earth beneath him into a water pool, intentionally submerging himself below ground level. The Graphorn skidded to a halt, confused – not realizing that Harry was directly beneath it. And its underbelly was now right in the firing line.

Harry did not hold back. From underwater he cast the most powerful Stunners and Blasting Curses he could manage, rocketing upwards out of the water and directly into the beast's chest. The Graphorn roared in pain as the spells ripped into its skin, causing it to bleed profusely. It stumbled away in a blind rage, and Harry lifted himself out of the pool, quickly drying himself and preparing to defend himself if necessary. But the Graphorn no longer paid him any mind – it howled in agony as it painted a bloody trail across the pit floor.

Harry would not let it suffer long. He once again conjured thick vines, wrapping around the beast and dragging it to the earth. The beast was too weak to fight back, eventually succumbing to the vines and lying miserably on the ground, wailing from its injuries.

"Phantom subdues the Graphorn!" the announcer shouted as the crowd murmured in shock. "The beast will be feeling that one for a while!"

The animal handlers rushed out to tend to the Graphorn. One of them, a wizened older man, marched straight up to Harry, waggling his finger angrily at him. "You almost killed my Graphorn!" he shouted angrily. "Do you realize how much it cost to bring it here?"

"Not a clue," Harry shrugged, turning his back to limp out of the arena. He had little sympathy for the man – he was smuggling animals outside of their natural habitat and treating them poorly. If anything, he should have finished the Graphorn off to put it out of its misery.

Krum rushed over to Harry as he exited the pit. "Are you badly hurt?" he asked.

Harry lifted his shirt and grimaced; the Graphorn's tusk had gored him in the side, leaving a nasty open wound that was bleeding profusely. He had a decent grasp on healing magic, but not enough to fix something this severe.

Instead, he gritted his teeth and pressed the tip of his wand to the wound. His wand tip glowed red-hot, and the smell of burning flesh filled his nostrils as he cauterized the wound closed. Once that was done, he cast a series of Cleaning Charms and reached into his robes for his potion toolkit, gulping down a Blood Replenisher to ensure he wouldn't pass out from blood loss.

"We should get you to a hospital," Krum said nervously.

"Too risky," Harry shook his head. "My sister can patch me up when I get home. I'll be alright for now."

Meanwhile, the organizer was rushing over to congratulate him. "Three hundred Galleons, as promised," he smiled, pressing a second coin purse into Harry's hand. "Ready for round three?"

"Er—" Harry said, pausing to think. The Graphorn had been a tough opponent, and he had to imagine the next creature would be even more dangerous, even if he wasn't injured. Was it really worth the five hundred Galleons? "I think I have to pass. It's too much of a risk."

"But you are our last remaining contestant!" said the organizer, sounding a bit desperate now. He looked around nervously; the crowd was watching on in excitement, hoping for another show like the one Harry had just put on. "You would deny our audience a spectacle?"

"Not if I wouldn't survive the encounter," said Harry. "Sorry, but five hundred Galleons isn't worth the risk." And he turned to leave, intending to retire for the night and make the journey home to Raven House in the morning.

"What about seven hundred?"

Harry turned. The organizer was wringing his hands nervously, suddenly faced with the prospect of an anticlimactic finish. "Come again?" said Harry.

"Seven hundred Galleons," the organizer repeated. "Hell, make it seven fifty. The show must go on."

Harry considered this. He suddenly had a powerful bargaining chip. "A thousand," he said.

The organizer looked shocked at this. "That's double the normal rate!" he stammered.

"You'll still make a profit," Harry shrugged. He'd seen many hundreds of gold coins exchange hands in the past few hours, and knew his request was far from breaking the bank for the club. "Plus, you'll lose customers if you don't provide a good show. A thousand Galleons, or I walk."

"I...I can't do that!" the organizer protested.

"Good night, then," Harry nodded, turning to go. As expected, it took only a couple seconds before the man called back after him.

"Okay, okay, you win! A thousand!" the organizer groaned.

Harry nodded and began to lightly stretch in preparation. Krum made his way over to him, looking highly concerned.

"This is a bad idea, Harry," he said warningly. "You're already injured. I do not know what else they are keeping down there, but it cannot be anything good—"

"I'll manage," Harry shrugged. A Graphorn was near the top of the list of dangerous creatures, and he could only think of a few things worse. If he could handle the massive beast, he could handle just about anything. Krum looked highly concerned, but he nodded and retreated back into the crowd as the organizer returned to the stage.

"Phantom has agreed to face the final round of the Gauntlet!" he announced excitedly. "Gather round and watch as he defies death for a third time!"

Harry steeled his nerves and headed back into the pit. He paced to and fro in front of the gate, mentally preparing himself for whatever came out next. The grate slid open, and Harry half-expected another massive beast to charge, forcing him to think fast—

But nothing happened. The crowd murmured quietly as Harry waited, watching the tunnel carefully. He could feel a powerful wave of magic rolling towards him, but could not yet see any threat. What was he about to face?

A thin mist began to creep out of the tunnel, swirling around and kicking up light dust. Harry's hair stood on end – it felt like the temperature had dropped in the pit by at least ten degrees. There's no way, he thought to himself. They couldn't have brought one here…

But his worst fears were realized when the creature finally emerged, drifting slowly towards him, silent as night. A pitch-black cloak, rippling in the wind with no wearer, floating menacingly towards him. The most dangerous creature known to wizarding kind. A Lethifold.

Harry immediately summoned a Bubble-Head Charm around his nose and mouth for clean air. He knew if he caught even a whiff of the swirling mist around the Lethifold, he would be instantly paralyzed, and the creature would throttle him to death. He had to keep his distance – Lethifolds moved slowly, but once they were within range, there was no escaping their grasp.

Harry wracked his brain, trying to remember a Lethifold's weakness. He fired a few test spells at the creature – Stunners, Body-Binds, Cutters – but nothing seemed to affect the thing, passing straight through as if it were immaterial. He tried fire next, summoning a wall of flame between him and the ominous thing, but it phased straight through unharmed.

Harry only knew of one spell to handle a Lethifold: the Patronus Charm. Like with Dementors, Lethifolds were creatures of pure darkness, unable to stand the pure light energy of a Patronus. The problem was, Harry did not want to reveal the form of his Patronus to these strangers – being able to cast the spell was rare enough, and having a thestral form was even rarer. That was a recipe for being identified with near certainty.

But he had to do something. The Lethifold crept ever closer, wisely cutting off Harry's routes of escape, slowly backing him into a corner. Time to put some of his illusory magic to work.

"Lumos Maxima!" Harry shouted. A large orb of light erupted into the sky, causing a blinding flash of light. The spectators were forced to avert their eyes, giving Harry time to enact his plan. He thought of Christmas, his family all together enjoying one another's company, using the warm memory for his next spell: "Expecto Patronum!"

The silver thestral burst from his wand, turning to await his instructions. Harry worked quickly, pointing his wand at the thestral to modify its spectral appearance. He added feathers to its bony wings, talons to its hoofed feet, and a beak to its long snout. When the spectators were finally able to adjust to the light and look into the pit again, the thestral had taken on the appearance of a hippogriff, turning to face down the Lethifold.

"Looks like our Phantom friend can cast a Patronus Charm!" said the announcer as the crowd murmured in awe. "Can his hippogriff avatar handle the Lethifold?"

The Lethifold looked perturbed by the Patronus, altering its course to back away from its prey. Harry directed the 'hippogriff' forward, charging down the Lethifold, which was forced to swoop away. It tried to re-enter the tunnel to retreat, but the grate had closed behind it, preventing its escape.

The Patronus lunged, grabbing the Lethifold in its mouth. The creature was pinned to the ground, emitting an inhuman sound – not quite a scream, more like the distant echo of lost souls, reverberating through the centuries of misery the ageless Lethifold had subjected them to.

Harry knew at this point he could claim victory and walk away with his gold. But he had no intention of letting the Lethifold live. It was too dangerous to be kept alive – not only was it subjected to horrible treatment, it was in a busy urban center, where it could feast on wizards and Muggles alike if it managed to escape. Harry wouldn't take that chance.

He urged his Patronus to keep going, throttling the creature and stomping it with its hooves. The grate was wrenched open, and animal handlers poured out in an attempt to extract the Lethifold before it could be killed. But Harry summoned an invisible barrier, preventing them from entering the pit as his Patronus bit, stomped, and kicked the creature.

The Lethifold did not last long. With one final, high-pitched keening sound, it burst apart, its 'cloak' dissolving into fine gray flakes, which settled into the dirt. Harry canceled his Patronus Charm as the stunned onlookers looked on.

"Phantom has killed the Lethifold!" said the shocked announcer. "I've never seen anything like it!"

The handlers finally burst through his makeshift barrier, and the older man hobbled towards him once more, beside himself with rage. "You killed my Lethifold!" he spat. "I ought to tear you apart for it!" The man drew his wand, but Harry flicked his own, sending it flying out of his hand and knocking him back. Part of him wished to hurt the man further, but there was no reason to waste his energy. He turned and exited the arena once more, leaving the man to stew.

Harry marched straight up to the organizer, who looked surprised to see him in one piece. "Well done, young man, well done indeed," he managed.

"My payment?" Harry asked, holding out his hand expectantly.

"Right, yes," the man chuckled nervously. "Right this way."

He led the way into a back office. Harry stood in the doorway, not wishing to close himself in with a man he didn't know. The organizer wrung his hands together before addressing him.

"Right, so, here's the thing," he said. "You were to face the three beasts without killing them – that was the rule. We lost a lot of future revenue from that Lethifold, so I'm afraid I have to rescind the thousand Galleon reward."

"Excuse me?" Harry scoffed. "Like hell you are – I earned that money!"

"It's just business," the organizer shrugged. "We have to recoup our losses somehow. Our margins are razor-thin already."

Harry drew his wand and pointed it menacingly at the man. "I wasn't asking," he warned. "Give me the money, or I'll take it by force."

"There are a dozen security guards behind you that will be alerted the second you try anything stupid," the organizer said.

"I doubt they'll react quick enough," Harry shrugged. "A Killing Curse only takes about a second to cast. I would know; it wouldn't be my first time."

The remaining color drained from the organizer's face. "C'mon, there's no need for threats—" he stammered.

"There is if you continue to try to screw me," said Harry. "Now, I'm going to count to ten, and by the time I finish, you're going to—"

Harry paused. Something wasn't right here. He'd felt a subtle shift in the magic in the air – almost imperceptible, something far off, but significant enough to catch his attention.

There seemed to be a general commotion happening in the main room. Harry turned his back on the organizer and left the office, returning to the main floor as club-goers huddled in confusion. A large group was descending the stairwell towards them from above, and one glance told Harry that it meant nothing good.

"Auror Office!" barked a man in official scarlet robes, matching those of a dozen men behind him. "This is a raid...everyone stay where you are and get your papers ready for inspection!"

Harry spotted Krum across the room and slipped through the crowd towards him. "What's happening?" he whispered urgently in Krum's ear.

"Ministry raid," Krum whispered back. "I'll be fine – I can bribe my way out of this, but you must go. If they discover you here, it could cause an international incident."

Harry spun on the spot to Apparate away, but found that he was unable to. "Anti-Disapparation wards," he muttered. "What do I do?" More Aurors were streaming into the space, blocking the only exit – Harry could see no way out.

"I'll cause a diversion for you," Krum muttered. "Try to slip out while nobody's looking."

Krum crossed the room and disappeared into the crowd. Heart hammering, Harry backed into a corner and cast a Disillusionment Charm on himself. It would keep him hidden for now, but the illusion was more easily spotted in motion, and if he stayed in one place, eventually the Aurors would be able to detect him. He had to find his way out, and quickly.

Harry glanced towards the office; he saw the organizer, wide-eyed with fear at the sight of the Aurors. The man crept away, not towards the stairs, but down into the pit. Harry watched him disappear down the grated tunnel, wondering if perhaps there was a secondary exit down there. It might be worth a try.

"What is the meaning of this?!" a voice roared from the other end of the room. Everyone turned; Krum had marched to the front of the crowd, facing down the head Auror with an angry expression. At once people began to mutter excitedly about the celebrity in their midst, including several of the red-robed Aurors.

"Stay where you are and have your papers ready," the head Auror said impassively. "You will be subjected to a fine and allowed to leave shortly."

"How dare you fine us for having a good time?" Krum demanded. "We are free citizens of this nation – what are these draconian tactics?" Many in the crowd murmured their agreement, glad to have a famous advocate on their side.

"Do not resist," the head Auror warned. "Or you will be arrested."

You're going to arrest me?" Krum demanded, laughing loudly at the idea. "How do you think the public will react when that news hits the press? Do you really want that bad publicity?"

"I don't care who you are," the head Auror snarled, pointing his wand between Krum's eyes. "Back up, or there will be consequences."

"Go easy on him, Boris," another Auror muttered nervously, approaching his colleague. "That's Viktor Krum. He's got a match against Greece next week – they're top of the Euro table."

"I don't give a damn who he is!" snarled the Auror named Boris. "I won't be shown up by a punk like him, and he's going to listen when I—"

"Hey, you! Stop right there!"

Harry's heart sank – he'd been spotted trying to sneak around the perimeter of the room. His Disillusionment Charm flickered and died under the scrutiny, exposing him to the view of the entire Auror force.

He wasted no time. Harry jabbed his wand at the ground, creating a large explosion of smoke and sparks that caused a loud bang which reverberated throughout the club. Aurors and club-goers dove out of the way, but the explosion was harmless – it was only meant to buy time.

Harry dove for the entrance to the pit as the Aurors open fire. His entire body glowed gold as his various shield items absorbed the spells, their Stunners and Body-Bind Charms failing to get through. If they'd cast anything stronger, they might have broken through the enchanted clothing, but Harry was banking on the Aurors using non-lethal methods of apprehension. By the time they realized what had happened, Harry was back in the arena and sprinting for the tunnel beyond.

The tunnel opened up a few dozen yards into the wall, revealing a larger animal holding area. Several beasts were chained to the wall, including the injured Graphorn and half a dozen hippogriffs. There was also an enchanted glass box that Harry presumed had held the Lethifold; now all that remained was the gray flakes of skin it had dropped upon its demise, collected by the handlers and gathered in a pile on the ground.

Harry heard shouting behind him; the Aurors were hot on his tail. Another tunnel extended deeper into the wall, promising some sort of hidden exit. But Harry didn't want to confine himself to such a tight space with spells flying at his back. He needed another diversion.

"Relashio!" he shouted, aiming his wand at the chains shackling the various beasts in place. They fell away, releasing the hippogriffs and the Graphorn. For a moment they stood still, not yet realizing they were free; then Harry fired Stinging Hexes at their backsides, spurring them to action. They lurched forward out of their pens, looking for a way out.

The Aurors screeched to a halt at the sight of the large beasts free of their bonds. The Graphorn bellowed angrily and charged at them; the Aurors scrambled back the way they came, as the massive beast chased them back down the tunnel towards the pit, the hippogriffs close behind.

Harry turned the opposite direction to continue through the underground tunnels in search of another way out. However, he paused, his eyes drawn once more to the Lethifold's empty pen. He knew Lethifold skin was an extremely rare and valuable substance, and here it was, freshly harvested and gathered in one place for the taking. Harry had been cheated out of a thousand Galleons tonight and wanted to make his trip somewhat worthwhile. So he quickly summoned a marble box, scooping the Lethifold remains inside before sealing it shut and stuffing it in his robes.

Harry took off down the tunnel again, which wound in seemingly random directions deeper into the earth. After a few hundred feet, it began to incline upwards, giving Harry hope that it would soon lead him to the surface so that he could find his way to safety. But to his dismay, when he rounded a corner, he found the tunnel caved in on itself – clearly the organizer and the animal handlers had destroyed the way out behind them to cover their tracks. Harry could not see any other way through.

Harry tried Apparating away again, but found that he was still within the wards preventing it. He once again heard voices behind him; more Aurors were giving chase, meaning Harry was well and truly trapped. He weighed his options – he could either try to fight his way back to the pit, where an entire Auror force awaited him; or he could surrender and face the consequences. Neither appealed to him very much.

One other option remained, even if Harry didn't like it. He reached into his robes and pulled out the silver comb that was his return trip home. Borgin had told him not to use it near wizarding establishments as he could be tracked, but Harry had no choice. He would rather take his chances in Britain than in a foreign country.

"Jobberknoll," he whispered, praying that the wards would let him leave. Fortunately, he felt the familiar tug behind the navel as the portkey whisked him away, ripping through the anti-Disapparation wards and transporting him out of Bulgaria at last.

After another prolonged journey, Harry fell flat on his face, breathing in damp grass and hearing the wind whistle through the trees around him. According to Borgin, he was now in Epping Forest, just outside London. His hip throbbed painfully from the Graphorn wound, but he could not stay still for long. He scrambled to his feet, praying that he could make his escape before anyone noticed his arrival.

But it was not to be. Within seconds, he heard several pops of Apparation as more Aurors arrived on the scene in a circle around him.

"Stop where you are!" a booming voice shouted in English. "Auror Office! You are in violation of international portkey law, and are under arrest!"

"Do not attempt to flee!" another deep voice warned; Harry realized with dread that it was Kingsley Shacklebolt. "Or you will be charged with obstruction of justice and imprisoned!"

Harry remained stock-still, kneeling in the tall grass as the Aurors slowly advanced all around him. They hadn't yet spotted him in the dim moonlight, slowly tightening the circle around the spot where he'd triggered their detection wards. He had only a few seconds before they found him, and had to act fast. He knew instinctively that he would not be able to Apparate...he needed to get a safe distance away to escape their wards and get himself to safety.

Harry tapped his wand to the silver comb in his hand and muttered a series of spells. As the footsteps drew ever closer around him, he flicked his wand upwards, sending the comb flying into the air. It glowed brightly, drawing every eye as it zoomed across the forest floor and connected with a nearby tree.

The comb exploded on impact, causing a massive boom as the tree rattled mightily from the burst. Several Aurors flinched, and Harry made his move. He sprinted directly at the nearest Auror, catching them with a Stunning Spell before he knew what had hit him. Harry caught the body on its way to the ground and flung it in the path of the follow-up Stunners sent his way, absorbing them all as Harry sprinted onward.

He heard a half-dozen voices shouting after him as he ran for freedom. Harry shot multiple Concussive Charms over his shoulder, causing more deafening booms that would hopefully help disorient the Aurors on his tail. He also flicked his wand to pick up as many stray branches and rocks as he could, sending the projectiles behind him as further deterrent for anyone chasing him. His clothing continued to glow gold at random intervals, absorbing spells fired at his back – he didn't know how many charges he had left and didn't want to stick around to find out.

After nearly a minute of running, Harry felt a subtle shift in the magic in the air and knew he had passed through the anti-Disapparation wards. He spun on the spot, twisting away into nothingness to escape the forest. He emerged in a back alleyway of London, sprinting on for another ten seconds before disappearing again to mask his Disapparation point. He repeated the process several times, popping all over the British countryside to throw off the trail, even at one point Apparating high over the open ocean and allowing himself to free-fall for several seconds before Disapparating again.

Harry finally made his final Apparation journey, emerging within the grounds of Raven House, safely hidden beneath his Fidelius Charm. Harry remained crouched on the front lawn, panting heavily, half-expecting Aurors to appear around the perimeter of his property at any moment. But it seemed he had effectively lost their tail, and after five minutes had passed, carefully listening for any sign of a disturbance beyond the ward line, Harry was confident he was in the clear.

He stumbled into the house, fully drained after the arduous journey home. He had expended a lot of magic tonight, and would need at least a full day to recover, if not longer. He stripped down and examined himself for injuries...the wound on his thigh from the Graphorn had re-opened, blood pouring liberally down his leg once more. Harry gritted his teeth and cauterized it again, before wrapping it in a bandage and gulping down another Blood Replenisher.

Harry limped over to his cot and fell onto it, fully aware that he was still a grimy, bloody mess. But he was alive, and he was safe – that was the important part, and the rest could wait until morning. He could summon Dahlia to patch him up before returning to Hogwarts. For now, he just wanted to sleep.

A/N: I borrowed some world-building in this chapter from one of my other completed fics, 'Evangeline's War'. If you liked the scenes with Krum and want to see more like it, I recommend checking that one out...I'm rather proud of it!