Year 6-18: Judgment at Nurmengard

"You did what?!"

"I know, I know," Harry groaned. "I was angry, alright? Maybe I over-did it a little, but you can understand where I was coming from, can't you?"

"So you threatened Neville and Dumbledore, frightened ze younger students, then destroyed ze castle doors?" Fleur scoffed. "Am I getting all that right?"

"More or less," Harry grumbled. "But the doors can be repaired, can't they? And it's not like I hurt anybody."

"No – just made a scene in front of everyone," said Fleur, crossing her arms.

This was not the reunion Harry had planned when he invited Fleur to meet him at Raven House. He had tried to play it cool when he arrived, but she sensed his tense mood at once, questioning him until he eventually confessed to what had happened in the Great Hall that morning.

"It doesn't matter now," Harry sighed. "The term ends in a week anyway, and I've finished my exams...I just left a little earlier than expected." He slightly regretted not grabbing his things before leaving – namely, the Marauder's Map, his Firebolt, and the Resurrection Stone – but he figured his trunk and broom would each be sent home to his parents' home shortly. As for the Cloak? Well, he could always take the legal route if Neville refused to hand over what was rightfully Harry's.

"What about your parents?" asked Fleur. "Won't they worry? Won't they wonder where you've gone?"

"I'll talk to them tomorrow," said Harry. "I have something I need to do first."

"And what is that?" Fleur demanded. "Why are you making Portkeys in the first place? Where do you plan to go?"

Harry sighed; he had not yet explained his plans to anybody. "I'm going to Nurmengard Prison, in the Swiss Alps," he said. "To meet Grindelwald."

Fleur stared at him blankly. "Je travaille avec un casse-cou," she murmured to herself under her breath. "Tell me you are not serious."

"If anyone knows about the Deathly Hallows, it's him," said Harry. "I know where two of them are and strongly suspect where the third one is. I need to know for sure, and to find out what happens if they are united."

"So zat is your plan?" said Fleur. "To become 'Master of Death' and destroy Voldemort that way?"

"Something like that," Harry shrugged. "It could be 'the power the Dark Lord knows not' for all we know. And if it means we can destroy Neville's horcrux without killing him, all the better."

"You would really risk your life for zis boy?" asked Fleur. "After what he 'as done to you?"

Harry considered this. "Neville is an idiot," he sighed. "But he's just a kid who doesn't know any better. And it's Dumbledore's fault he distrusts me in the first place. He's been a prat to me, but that's not a crime deserving of death, is it?"

Truthfully, his anger was still whispering in his ear, urging him to just let Neville lie in the bed he made. But he had to think rationally – no matter what Neville had done to him, he still did not deserve such a gruesome fate. If he could be saved, it was at least worth finding out.

"It is 'onorable, 'Arry, but there must be another way than to break into a prison," Fleur muttered.

"It won't be as dangerous as the pyramid," said Harry. "The prison is unmanned, guarded only by magic and mountain giants. Grindelwald himself will be unarmed, unlike Rakhaman. Once I have the information I need, I'll come straight back home, and we can figure out our next steps with Bill."

"And you plan on going alone?" Fleur demanded, placing her hands on her hips. "With no backup?"

"I can take care of myself," said Harry. "And if something bad were to happen, I wouldn't want to worry about protecting you as well."

"I do not need protecting!" Fleur protested. "I can stay at a distance and wait for a signal if you get into trouble. I can also care for myself!"

"I believe you," said Harry. "But I don't want to be distracted in my meeting with Grindelwald while wondering if you're off battling a giant somewhere. Please, it will make my job easier if you wait here while I'm away."

Fleur still looked troubled by this plan. "Alright," she sighed. "I will remain 'ere. But only on one condition."

"What's that?" asked Harry.

"If you get caught," said Fleur, "turn yourself in. Do not try to fight your way out. My father 'as connections to help you out of legal trouble – there is nothing he can do if you are killed."

Harry sighed...he had no intentions of getting caught or fighting his way out, but if that was what it took to placate Fleur, he would accept her terms. "Alright," he sighed. "Now, let's see if I can make a Portkey without Splinching myself."

They walked out into the front yard, where Harry pulled out a bronze Knut from his pocket and placed it on the ground. He drew his wand and closed his eyes, envisioning all the layers of magic he would need to imbue into the coin. A Tracking Charm tied to the destination. Another tied to the return location. An Activation Charm, a Sticking Charm, and a few other subtle enchantments – all wrapped up into a single incantation.

"Portus," Harry whispered.

The Knut glowed bright blue, and Harry felt the enchantments latch onto the coin as his wand hummed with energy. When the spell was complete, the Knut was back to its natural bronze state, but when Harry picked it up, it was infused with magic, so much so that even Fleur could sense it.

"Zis is not a typical Portkey," she remarked. "What did you do to it?"

"I added a few modifications of my own," Harry shrugged. "A Cushioning Charm, for one – nobody ever thinks to make the journey less painful. That's one advantage Muggles have over wizards when it comes to travel."

"Are you sure it works?" Fleur frowned.

"One way to find out," said Harry. "I say the activation phrase, and it either takes me to the other side of the yard over there, or you take me to St. Mungo's."

"Are those the only two options?" asked Fleur in alarm.

"Only joking," Harry grinned. "Well, mostly – do be ready just in case."

Fleur gave him an exasperated look. "Let us get zis over with," she muttered. "I look forward to explaining to your mother why you cut yourself in 'alf."

Harry grinned as he clutched the coin tightly in his palm. He readied himself for what he hoped would be a simple journey, but potentially a world of pain. "Grindelwald," he whispered.

At once he felt the familiar jerk behind the navel, though it was less pronounced thanks to the Cushioning Charm. Harry felt a brief yanking sensation, then his feet touched down on the grass again. When he opened his eyes, he saw Fleur thirty feet away from him, staring in shock.

"Grindelwald," he said again. Once more he felt the jerking sensation, and a split second later, he was standing right in front of Fleur once more. He smirked and took an elaborate bow as she shook her head in exasperation.

"I can already tell you will be insufferable about zis," she groaned.

"Hey, it's more comfortable than Apparating," said Harry. "Want me to make you one?"

"I will take a rain check," Fleur sighed. "What now?"

Harry opened his mouth to answer, but he was interrupted by a bright light that appeared over their heads. Both looked up as a silver stag bounded through the air towards them, coming to a halt before Harry.

"Harry, where are you?" the stag spoke in James' voice. "Your mother told me what happened at the school. I've asked Sirius, Remus, everybody if they've seen you, but nobody has. Please, come home so we can talk about this. I promise you're not in trouble. We're worried sick about you and just want to know you're safe."

The Patronus dissolved into mist. Harry immediately felt guilty, knowing that he must have caused quite the distress for his parents with his hasty exit from school. They did not yet know about his safe house and probably assumed he was out in the world somewhere, exposed to danger.

"You must go to him," Fleur implored Harry. "Explain what has 'appened. He wants to 'elp you – do not push him away."

Harry nodded slowly, considering his options. "You're right, Fleur," he sighed. "I'll talk to him. But not right now. Expecto patronum."

Harry flourished his wand, and the silver thestral emerged in midair, turning to greet him. He was glad to see it after the monstrosity that was his corrupted form, conjured in the Great Hall the day before, which he sincerely hoped to never see again.

"Tell my dad I love him and I'll see him tomorrow," he told the thestral. "I have something I need to take care of first, but I am safe and not alone." The Patronus took off, flying through the ward boundary and over the horizon out of sight.

"You are not seriously going to Switzerland today?" Fleur groaned.

"I have no other choice," said Harry. "My parents won't want to let me out of their sight again once I return home. I need answers, and we're running out of time. When I get back, we'll figure out a course of action – Bill included. Deal?"

Fleur looked deeply uncertain about this. She rushed forward and engulfed Harry in a tight hug, as though unwilling to let him go.

"Please be careful," she whispered in his ear. "And remember what I 'ave said: this is not worth risking your life over."

"I understand," said Harry. "If I'm not back by midnight, tell my parents and yours what happened. I'll surrender peacefully if I have to."

Fleur planted a chaste kiss to his cheek and pulled away, nodding forlornly in agreement. Meanwhile, Harry pulled out a fresh Knut from his pocket and placed it on the ground, mentally envisioning what he needed to happen. The destination – a snowy mountainside, just north of a Muggle village called Sonogno, roughly ten miles east of Nurmengard. The return destination – the Forest of Dean, far from any wizarding establishments in Britain. A Sticking Charm, an Activation Charm, a Cushioning Charm, and—

"Portus." The Knut glowed bright blue again, before returning to its natural state. Harry picked it up, clutching it tightly in his palm and preparing for the long journey. He gave Fleur one final nod of reassurance before whispering the trigger phrase: "Fleur."

Fleur disappeared in a swirl of color and magic as Harry felt himself whisked far, far away from Raven House. He was immediately disoriented, wondering if he'd made some kind of mistake, if he'd failed to enchant the Portkey properly. But then his feet crunched down on snowy ground, and he looked around, finding himself standing on a remote mountainside, overlooking a desolate landscape of slush, rock and shadow. He had arrived.

Harry knew Nurmengard was somewhere to the west of where he'd landed. He'd considered bringing a broom for easier travel, but he wanted to avoid using more magic than he needed – surely the prison would be tracking incoming magical transportation like that. So he set off on foot, following the path of the retreating sun to guide his way.

The journey was treacherous and cumbersome, but Harry allowed himself a few conveniences. He cast a handful of enchantments on his shoes to allow him to run faster, jump higher, and fall slower. He was therefore able to leap dozens of meters at a time, jumping from one rocky outcropping to another. He avoided the shadowy valleys below, sticking to the ridges above, giving him better visibility.

Not only was he looking out for signs of the prison itself, he had to be cautious about any potential traps. Lookout posts, enchantment fields, anything of the sort that might detect him coming. Then of course there were the mountain giants, which he knew roamed these parts and were meant to deter visitors to the prison. With luck, he would spot them before they spotted him.

An hour into his journey, he saw his first giant. It lumbered along through a deep valley below, clutching a club the size of a tree in its meaty fist. Its heavy footfalls caused the ground to tremble, even from half a mile away. Harry crouched low and Disillusioned himself, not wishing to be spotted even from that great distance.

The sun was dipping low in the sky already – it couldn't be later than two or three in the afternoon, but the high mountain ridges meant darkness was already falling within the valleys. Harry did his best to stick to high ground, giving him more sunlight and line of sight. It was deathly quiet, save for the occasional distant rumble of earth, and Harry hoped he could reach the prison without attracting any unwanted attention—

CRASH! A boulder the size of a minivan smashed into the mountainside, just feet from where Harry was standing. He rolled out of the way of debris, as a deafening roar echoed from deeper within the nearest canyon. A massive giant, some twenty or thirty feet tall, emerged from the darkness – it must have sensed him nearby. Harry made a break for it, hoping to lose the giant over the next ridge.

The giant lunged and brought its club down in a heavy swinging motion. Harry altered course, leaping to slide down the valley between the giant's legs. It stumbled and nearly fell trying to kick him, but Harry sprung to his feet again, sprinting up the opposite ridge. He twirled his wand as the giant spun around and reared back for another vicious club attack—

Another loud roar caused the giant to stop in its tracks. Another giant had appeared, beating its chest and leering intimidatingly at the other. The first giant stopped its pursuit of Harry and turned to meet the new challenger, roaring angrily at the intrusion to its territory. It lunged, and the two giants went at it, grappling, scrabbling and trying to out-muscle each other.

Harry slipped over the next ridge and out of sight, panting. Hopefully his transfigured pseudo-giant creation of rock and earth would hold together long enough to distract the original giant. He set off at a jog, hoping to put as much distance between himself and the monstrous beast as possible.

Luckily, nothing gave chase as he made his way deeper into the Alps. As the light grew dimmer and the air grew colder, Harry heard fewer and fewer heavy footfalls, indicating there weren't nearly as many giants as he thought guarding this place. He wondered if Voldemort's people had been here recently, recruiting the local giant population as they had in his original timeline. It would prove to be a headache for Britain soon, but at least it made his journey easier now, so he wouldn't complain.

Harry could not yet see Nurmengard, but he felt a strong pull of magic ahead of him, similar to that of the Great Pyramids. It served as his compass, altering his trajectory towards the source. He knew it could not be a natural source, like a leyline – it had to be artificial, a magically-constructed site in the middle of nowhere. And that could only mean one thing. He crested a ridge, coming upon a large valley, and exhaled sharply at the sight.

The prison sat nestled near the center of the valley, overlooking a deep chasm plunged in darkness. It was smaller than Harry envisioned: a simple stone building and solitary stone tower, with a small courtyard in between. The facility was dark and imposing, with only a single light illuminating the highest window of the tower – Grindelwald's cell. It looked innocuous enough, but Harry could sense the dangerous magic surrounding the building, promising to ensnare anyone foolish enough to waltz in the front door.

Harry crept forward down the hillside, feeling the magic in the air, careful not to set off any traps along the way. His charmed feet made no noise as he descended towards the prison; only the quiet tinkle of displaced dirt and pebbles disturbed the quiet. He reached the bottom of the slope and stole forward, step by step, until he came to an abrupt halt.

A heavy ward field stood in his path, a few hundred feet away from the prison boundary. Harry sensed a plethora of nasty enchantments if he stepped through it: Tracking Charms, anti-Disapparation and Portkey wards, a Caterwauling Charm, and various Alarm Wards to alert the authorities to an intruder. He knew there was no way he could get closer without setting them off – he would have to find a way to disable them.

Harry pondered the dilemma. There were no natural sources of magic nearby, so the wards had to be anchored to something artificial, like rune stones. The ward field extended in all directions around the prison, so the source had to be centered somewhere near the center of the building itself. It was unlikely to be within the building, as it would need to be accessible by guards to update and alter the wards as necessary without triggering them.

Harry inched along the ward perimeter towards the edge of the cliff the prison sat on. He peered down into the darkness; the valley floor was hundreds of feet below, plunged in darkness as the sun had long disappeared over the mountaintops. It was a convenient place to bury rune stones, and Harry's best chance at disabling the wards.

So he cast a Feather-Light Charm on himself and jumped. He fired an orb of light downwards into the darkness, lighting his way as he glided gracefully towards the valley floor. After roughly a minute of falling, he alighted on a rocky outcropping, far below the prison. The pull of magic felt even stronger here, telling Harry that he was in the right place. He approached the rock wall of the cliff face, the orb of light guiding his way from above, until he found what he was looking for.

Part of the rock face was disillusioned, which Harry dispelled with a wave of his wand. And there, glowing in a circle within the rock, were seven rune stones, powering the enchantments protecting the prison above. Harry closed his eyes and reached out with his magic, feeling their pull, deducing what they each did. He had to be cautious – breaking the runes entirely would no doubt attract attention. He would have to disentangle the enchantments above so that he could pass in and out without detection.

So Harry began waving his wand over the rune stones, deactivating as many enchantments as possible. The alarm wards, the anti-travel wards, the Tracking Charms, and more. He left a few intact, such as the anti-destruction and unlocking wards that undoubtedly kept Grindelwald securely trapped within his cell. Once he was done, five of the seven rune stones had powered down, and he could no longer feel the oppressive magic above him. The most important wards had been lowered.

Harry had to move quickly now. He had no idea how often people came to check on the prison – it had to be semi-regular, to keep Grindelwald fed and watched over. Hopefully deactivating the wards wouldn't attract too much attention – the guards would surely notice whenever they returned, but until then, Harry had a window of opportunity to get in and out. He Apparated directly up to the entrance of the prison, now able to walk forward freely without fear of setting off any traps.

"Homenum revelio," Harry whispered. A flare of magic reached out, scanning the facility for any human activity. Only a single target was identified, high up in the tower – the prisoner himself. Harry had the man alone now, and knew he had to make his journey quick. He crossed the courtyard and entered the tower, taking the winding steps two at a time until he reached the highest floor and cautiously stepped forward.

The top of the tower contained nothing but a bare stone cell, with heavy iron bars blocking the stairs and window. The cell contained nothing but a bed, a lamp, and a lone prisoner, seated calmly atop the mattress. The man looked ancient – as old as Dumbledore, if not older, wizened and gray. But the look in his eye was as sharp as the Headmaster's, and he smiled broadly as Harry tentatively approached the bars.

"Well, well," the man smiled. "We meet at last, Mr. Potter."

Harry hesitated – his glamour hadn't failed, had it? "You claim to know who I am?" he asked uncertainly.

"I saw you coming, Harry," said Grindelwald, tapping his forehead with a sly wink. "Unlike you, I am a true Seer. You can remove your silly little disguise now."

Harry sighed and removed the glamour, revealing his true face. "Mr. Grindelwald," he said with a slight bow. "I've come to ask you a few questions."

"Please, call me Gellert," Grindelwald smiled. "Albus has told me a lot about you. I've seen glimpses of your past and future, and it intrigues me deeply. I was hoping we would get the chance to speak soon."

Harry frowned – he had barely arrived and already had more questions than he'd arrived with. "Dumbledore told you about me?" he asked. "He told you I'm a Seer?"

"He told me that you claim to be a Seer," Grindelwald corrected. "I knew at once that you were lying, of course – no true Seer is certain of the future, and instead sees the vast possibilities just over the horizon. I let the charade play out, because the hidden truth intrigues me – something is different about you, Harry, but it is not the Sight. You are marked by Death, and I cannot fathom how or why."

Harry did not feel comfortable with how easily Grindelwald was seeing right through him, mere moments after arriving. "I might answer some of your questions," he said evasively. "If you answer a few of my own."

"Ah...a battle of wits, then?" Grindelwald grinned toothily. "I do so enjoy such games. They are what keep me sane, after all, some fifty years since I arrived here. Only Albus has been able to stand toe-to-toe against me, but perhaps you can try."

"Dumbledore visits you, then?" Harry asked casually, leaning against the wall.

"On occasion," said Grindelwald. "More often in the beginning, to inform me of goings-on in the outside world. Then there was a long stretch of silence, but he returned seeking my counsel when the self-proclaimed Lord Voldemort rose to power."

"You counseled him on how to fight against Voldemort?" asked Harry.

"Heavens, no!" Grindelwald scoffed. "Why would I do such a thing? As far as I'm concerned, Voldemort picked up where I left off in purging this world of the unclean. His ideas of blood purity are nonsense, of course – even the weakest Mudblood is far superior to the strongest Muggle – but the result is largely the same. Dumbledore asked my advice, and I did my best to trick him, to mislead him, but he was far too clever for that."

"Then why did he keep coming back here, if he knew you were lying to him?"

"Sentimental attachments?" Grindelwald shrugged indifferently. "The poor man was quite smitten with me, I'm afraid – I strung him along in our youth to hold his interest and further our aims, but I quickly grew tired of his affections. He still seemed to believe he could 'fix' me, could overlook my flaws. Mostly I think he just came seeking camaraderie...it is quite lonely at the top of civilized society, after all."

"And he asked you about me," said Harry. "Which means he has been here quite recently. When? And what did you discuss?"

"Tut, tut," Grindelwald admonished him. "You've asked me enough questions – now it is my turn. Why do you falsely pretend to be a Seer? What do you stand to gain from such an easily falsifiable claim?"

Harry pondered what to say. He could tell Grindelwald was a dangerous man, despite his lack of power at the moment; he wielded information as effectively as any wand. He was unsure how much to divulge with him, how much he might relay on to others. But he doubted he could lie effectively against such an intellect, and knew he would get no answers without divulging some secrets of his own. Besides, he could always Obliviate the man later.

"I died, in another life, when I was fifteen," said Harry. "Death sent me here, to my eleven-year-old body. Things are the same in this world, but not exactly. It was useful to claim the Sight to convince others to act on my foreknowledge of events."

"Ah...a time traveler," Grindelwald nodded sagely. "I had my suspicions, but kept them to myself. It was far more amusing to watch Albus twist himself into knots understanding how your 'visions' worked. And how, exactly, are things different in this world than your last?"

"Your turn for a question now," Harry retorted. "What did Dumbledore ask about me? Why did he come back?"

"He was unsure what to make of you," said Grindelwald. "Two boys named in a prophecy, one of whom he assumed to be the Chosen One, who expressed nothing but mediocrity and a lack of leadership ability. The other, largely overlooked and forgotten: a prodigy, a natural leader, and a complete renegade. One with a deep, underlying anger that he could not understand. Driven by a singular purpose he could not fathom. Who was willing to go to any length to achieve his goals, except trust the figures of authority around him."

"He assumed I was going dark," Harry muttered bitterly.

"Dark? Of course he didn't!" Grindelwald laughed. "The thought never crossed his mind. How could you? A well-loved boy from a nurturing household, born into wealth and status, destined for great things? Such boys do not grow up bitter and disillusioned like myself and Tom Riddle did."

"Then why does he think that now?" Harry demanded.

"Because I suggested it, of course," Grindelwald smirked.

Harry frowned. "You told Dumbledore that I was a budding dark wizard?" he asked. "But why? What did you stand to gain?"

"That's more than your fair share of questions," said Grindelwald. "My turn again. I wonder what kind of life you must have lived before to turn out the way you did. Were your parents boorish drunks, perhaps, who abused you?"

"My parents are two of the bravest, most selfless people alive," Harry said sharply. "They died protecting me in my first lifetime. I was raised by my aunt and uncle, and yes, they did not treat me too well."

"Interesting," Grindelwald muttered thoughtfully. "Albus has told me of your parents, of course, but never mentioned any such relatives."

"They were Muggles, so I suppose he wouldn't have," said Harry.

"Muggles?" Grindelwald scoffed. "But now it all makes perfect sense! To be raised by such filth? It is no wonder you harbor such rage, such distrust. You might as well have been raised by apes in the jungle!"

"Not all Muggles are bad," Harry retorted. "Your prejudice is showing, Gellert."

"Oh, please," Grindelwald scoffed. "Of course there are good Muggles! Kind, caring, thoughtful people who willingly turn a blind eye to evil. Who will allow the sycophants among them to destroy all they hold dear. The things I saw in Austria and Germany between the two great wars would astound you, Harry – the depths of depravity Muggles can be capable of when united by a common cause of destruction. Tell me: if a good man refuses to stand up against evil, is he truly any better than the evil-doer?"

"You say this as if it is exclusive to Muggles," said Harry. "Wizards are just as guilty of it – most of your followers expressed regret after the war, claiming you duped them."

"Ah, but there is one other despicable trait all Muggles share," said Grindelwald. "A fear of the unknown. A willful incuriosity to that which they do not understand. There is a reason the Statute of Secrecy was implemented centuries ago, Harry – every time Muggles have discovered the existence of wizards throughout history, they have sought to oppress them. Wizards, by definition, delve eagerly into the unknown and learn to harness it – something a Muggle could never understand."

That still struck Harry as an over-simplification, but he hadn't come here to debate the ethics of Muggle subjugation. The fact that he was even humoring the idea was frankly absurd. "Your turn to answer now," he said. "Why did you suggest to Dumbledore that I've gone dark?"

"I admit, it wasn't my original plan," said Grindelwald. "I was honest with him at first – when I first opened my Sight to you, I saw a boy with a strong moral center, with a clear directive to fight against evil. But slowly, things changed. I saw a side to you that I hadn't expected. Neither Light nor Dark – a seismic force in our world, driven by something unlike any other notable wizard throughout history."

"And what would that be?" asked Harry.

"I suppose that's for you to answer, isn't it?" Grindelwald smiled. "All I knew was, you were no heartless sycophant, but nor were you as pure and clean of spirit as Albus claimed to be. And unfortunately, Albus could not understand such nuance. He saw anything shy of perfection to be abhorrent. Any shade of gray to be a sign of underlying darkness. So stupidly naive and idealistic – precisely the reason I lost interest in him as a youth. But I saw an opportunity nonetheless."

"An opportunity?" Harry frowned. "How do you mean?"

"For fifty years I have sat in here, wondering how I might have my revenge," Grindelwald snarled. "At first I thought perhaps someone would break me out and I could avenge my loss to Albus. But I soon realized that none of the poor fools who tried to break in here had the knowledge or ability to get me out. Besides, I've grown physically weak in this cell, and Albus was always the better duelist between us. But there was another way I could beat him. I could destroy him psychologically. I could convince him to bring about his own destruction."

"And you saw me as a way to do that?"

"Tom Riddle was too obvious of a threat," said Grindelwald. "Using him as a manipulation tool would never have worked. You, however? It was simple. I advised him to counsel you, to take you under his wing. Then, I began sowing seeds of doubt. Visions of darkness. Of subterfuge. Of dangerous, sacrificial blood rituals. That one was real, by the way, and I thank you for it. I foresaw a future where you would bring about his ruin, and it tore him to pieces."

A chill ran down Harry's spine as Luna's prophecy replayed itself in his head: 'A false judgment will lead to ruin.' Was that Dumbledore? Had he misjudged Harry's character, based on the poison Grindelwald was feeding him, and turned his back as a result?

"So...you convinced Dumbledore I was a dark wizard?" asked Harry slowly. "To destroy him psychologically?"

"Oh, yes," Grindelwald smiled. "To him, it represented the ultimate failure, the closure of a final chapter in his sorry life. First me, whom he thought he could save but could not. Then Tom, whom he tried so desperately to reform but again failed. And finally, you – the golden boy, the shining light of Britain, plunged into darkness right under his nose. I knew it would break him. And you played your part so wonderfully, my boy."

Harry's head was spinning now. More fragments of the prophecy were coming to him now: 'A trilogy nears its violent end… A shining light shall be extinguished…' Did both refer to Harry? Was he truly the end of Dumbledore, the final domino to fall that would break the Headmaster's resolve?

But Harry also knew that Grindelwald was a clever man. He had manipulated Dumbledore easily, and Harry could not let him do the same to him. The man had ulterior motives, and Harry did not want to play into them without push-back.

"You may think you've won," said Harry, "but you haven't. Not yet. Dumbledore did beat you all those years ago. And he's gotten the best of Riddle so far every time. And despite what you've told him, I am no dark wizard. And I intend to set the record straight as soon as I return. Your efforts were all for naught."

"Ah, but I think not," Grindelwald smirked. "You see, Harry, I do have one last ace up my sleeve. I am still a true Seer, despite the false visions I fed to Albus. And I have seen what lies in store for you both. Try as you might, Harry, you cannot change Fate."

"What did you see?" asked Harry. "What does Fate have in store for us?"

"Ah, but that would ruin the surprise, wouldn't it?" Grindelwald winked. "I think you'll find out sooner rather than later. Now, this conversation has been quite enlightening, but I do suspect we have yet to arrive at the true purpose of your visit. I doubt you came all this way to air out your grievances with your Headmaster, am I right?"

Harry huffed in annoyance...of course Grindelwald would continue playing games with him. This was a battle of wits, after all, and the only way for the man to exert any kind of power outside the walls of his cell. He had to be careful not to fall for any of his traps...and yes, he had come here with a specific goal in mind.

"The Deathly Hallows," said Harry.

"Ah," Grindelwald nodded. "I should have known. I admit, I am disappointed...many men have come seeking their glory, asking me how to find them, and I had to let them down and inform them that they are merely fables – figments of their imagination."

"But that's not true," Harry frowned. "You sought them out in your youth. You took the symbol for your own."

"Yes, I admit they held a certain appeal in my younger, more idealistic days," said Grindelwald. "I traveled to Godric's Hollow to research the link between them and the Peverells, of course, and the symbol always appealed to me from an aesthetic perspective. But I quickly dismissed the foolish notion of a 'Master of Death' that Albus held so dear. What use was a burdensome Cloak and a Stone that could not truly summon the dead back to the world of the living? Only the Wand held any interest to me, but I suspected it, too, was only the stuff of legend."

"But you found it, didn't you?" said Harry. "It disappeared not far from where you began your campaign against Europe. The tales of your prowess during the war are wide-spread. It cannot be coincidence."

"Ah...very good, Potter," Grindelwald appraised him. "I did indeed possess the Elder Wand. And I admit, it briefly re-ignited my interest in the Hallows, having such a potent tool at my disposal. But I was swiftly disabused of any notion that it could make one 'Master of Death'."

"How so?" asked Harry.

"The wand is undoubtedly powerful," said Grindelwald. "It saved me on multiple occasions where I should have died in combat. But it is a nefarious thing: it demands more and more of you, requiring you to make sacrifices to maintain its loyalty. It craves violence and death, like a dowsing rod attracted to blood. And if it senses a lack of faith, a lapse in allegiance to the carnage, it can turn on you in an instant."

"Is that what happened when you faced Dumbledore?" Harry asked.

"Indeed," said Grindelwald. "And if I could not satiate the wand's bloodlust, with thousands of victims at my feet? I was convinced that no one could. Certainly not Albus and his bleeding heart pacifism."

"And yet, he has kept its loyalty for fifty years," Harry pointed out.

"Hmph," Grindelwald snorted, and for the first time Harry saw a crack in the man's facade: a glimpse at the stubborn pride beneath his charismatic veneer. "Perhaps the Deathstick is simply waiting for a more worthy challenger to claim its loyalty. Tom Riddle clearly has yet to impress the wand...maybe it will be you, young Potter, if you play your cards right."

"Don't manipulate me," Harry said warningly. "What if I told you I don't want the Hallows for personal gain?"

"The gain of others, then, perhaps?" Grindelwald guessed. "You seek them on somebody else's behalf? If you think they will shield your loved ones from harm, I'm afraid it doesn't work that way, boy."

"The gain of everyone," Harry corrected. "Against a tyrannical maniac trying to destroy our way of life."

"Ah...a tool of war, then," Grindelwald surmised. "Well, I'm afraid your little plan still won't work. There is no such thing as 'Master of Death', and even if there was, you'll never find all three pieces. If you came to ask me how to find the Stone and the Cloak, I haven't got a clue – not even the Sight has revealed them to me."

"I already know where they are," said Harry. "I found the Stone, and I know who is holding the Cloak."

"Is that so?" asked Grindelwald, surprised. "Then I fail to see what you need me for."

"I just need to understand how to wield them properly," said Harry. "You mastered the Elder Wand for a time and know how it functions. You know it better than anyone alive besides Dumbledore."

"And as I said, it is a fickle mistress," said Grindelwald. "If you ask me, you are better off sticking with the wand that chose you as a child. I sometimes wonder if I would have won that duel against Albus without the cursed thing whispering cruelties in my ear. Better men than I have failed to control the wand, and many more will do so in the future."

"But if it makes you more powerful…?" Harry asked.

"Then I would have beaten Albus," Grindelwald shrugged. "It protected me against weaker men, that much is certain. But it cannot stand in for true talent. If you think the wand can help a sixteen-year-old boy stand a chance against a man as dangerous as Tom Riddle, you're a fool."

Harry pondered this. Unfortunately, he did not believe Grindelwald was lying in this instance. The Elder Wand clearly was not unbeatable as the legends said, since Grindelwald had lost to Dumbledore despite mastering it. And Dumbledore was not infallible either – Voldemort had nearly bested him in their last fight in the Atrium, which only ended in a draw because the Dark Lord was forced to retreat. Nothing suggested that Harry would suddenly be able to defeat Voldemort simply by virtue of holding the wand himself.

But what did this mean for Neville and the horcrux? Clearly mastering the Elder Wand by itself was not enough to save his life, as it hadn't saved any of its previous holders throughout history. But what about the three Hallows united? Could they, in unison, allow Neville to cross over to the plane of Death and return unscathed? Death himself had told Harry that he could have returned if his body had survived – would mastering the Hallows afford Neville the same privilege?

Grindelwald suddenly chuckled, as though reading Harry's mind. "No mortal man can cheat Death, Harry Potter," he sneered. "Many have tried and failed throughout history, but we all must go when our time comes."

"I don't believe that," Harry frowned. "Death can't be avoided, but it can be delayed. And I'll continue fighting as long as the slimmest possibility of survival exists."

"You want my advice?" said Grindelwald. "Run. Take your family out of Britain. Britain is doomed, no matter what Albus may believe. Why continue fighting for those who have nothing to offer you? Why throw yourself into harm's way repeatedly when you have a perfectly-good lifeboat to escape harm?"

"Because it's not the right thing to do," said Harry stubbornly. "The Potters have fought for the marginalized and downtrodden for centuries, and will continue to do so."

"And you never wonder why you are the last of your name?" Grindelwald laughed. "Why the Potters are not plentiful throughout Britain? Such an attitude is self-destructive and ultimately fruitless. Protect your heritage, Potter. Get yourself far away from Dumbledore the fool and Voldemort the inevitable. Let this other boy Longbottom fall on the sword as Albus intends."

Harry's heart sank at this last line. "Dumbledore knows Neville has to die?" he said quietly.

"Naturally," Grindelwald scoffed. "It's revolting, really, watching him wring his hands and prolong the inevitable. I would have struck the boy down immediately if I'd known the truth – assuming I cared about defeating Voldemort, of course. It will only get harder to do what must be done the older he gets. But Dumbledore never could bring himself to be as ruthless as war required him to be."

That gave Harry pause. Dumbledore was having second thoughts about Neville's fate? He had assumed the Headmaster would be brazen towards Neville's safety, knowing what he did about the horcrux, just as he had been towards Harry in his previous lifetime. But was that not truly the case? Did the man truly wish for the Boy Who Lived to do just that: live? Was he not the master manipulator Harry assumed him to be?

It didn't absolve Dumbledore of all his sins in Harry's eyes, of course. He had still been negligent about safety at Hogwarts in recent years, endangering his family unnecessarily multiple times. But there was a meaningful difference between well-intentioned mistakes and deliberate sabotage, and it seemed the Headmaster was not as guilty of the latter as Harry thought. Perhaps he, too, had misjudged the man based on his own biases and misconceptions. They were both being overly-cautious with the other out of fear for their own plans being disrupted.

Clearly that would have to change. Harry knew that the war was spiraling out of control as he and Dumbledore tip-toed around one another. It was time to try something different. Time to set aside his pride and open up to Dumbledore at last. To decide what to do with the pieces of the Hallows they were withholding from one another and find a cohesive path forward, together.

Grindelwald suddenly cocked his head, as though listening for some far-off sound. Harry sensed it too: a disturbance in the wards around them, a ripple in the fabric of magic governing this prison. He knew at once it could mean nothing good. And his fears were confirmed a moment later, when he heard a voice shout up from the grounds below the window:

"Intruder! You are surrounded! Come out now with your hands up, or you will be met with deadly force!"

"Ah, it seems the game is up," Grindelwald said, sounding genuinely disappointed. "This is generally the part where my visitors tend to panic and soil themselves...I wonder how you will respond?"

"Sorry to disappoint you, but this isn't the first scrape I've had to fight my way out of," Harry shrugged, lightly stretching to prepare himself. He'd had a feeling his presence here wouldn't go unnoticed for long, and based on the voices wafting in through the window, there were at least a dozen armed wizards waiting for him outside, if not more.

"Oh, what fun!" Grindelwald said gleefully. "We haven't had a fighter since the sixties...I believe his blood still stains the courtyard. I wish you the best of luck, Harry Potter."

"Thanks for your time, Mr. Grindel— er, Gellert," Harry corrected himself as he drew his wand. "You've been most helpful. Obliviate."

For a brief moment, he saw flashes of memory from his visit here playing across Grindelwald's mind. But as he tried to grasp them and erase their existence, they were suddenly yanked away from him, as though receding back into his subconscious. Harry fought to find them again, but found nothing but darkness staring back at him, until he was forcefully expelled from the man's mind, clutching his head in pain.

"Nice try, Harry," Grindelwald said, clicking his tongue in disapproval. "Not only am I a Seer, I have trained myself in Occlumency to prevent such crude tactics as memory modification. But fear not – your secrets are safe with me, for now. I suspect this will not be the last time we meet."

"I sincerely hope that you're wrong," Harry said honestly. He was in no hurry to clash with the brilliant and twisted mind of Grindelwald ever again.

"There is no escaping Fate, Harry Potter," Grindelwald chuckled. "If we are meant to cross paths again, it shall come to pass in due course. Until then, I will watch on with great interest." And he tapped his forehead, indicating that he did not need a visual line of sight to see what became of Harry from here. Harry merely shrugged as he turned to descend the stairwell.

He had more pressing worries at the moment than Grindelwald, of course. He fully believed that he was surrounded on all sides with no easy way out of here. He could feel the anti-Disapparation wards hovering over him like an oppressive weight, along with a similar ward that he knew instinctively would prevent his Portkey from functioning. He had two choices: make a run for the ward boundary to escape, or surrender and hope Sebastian Delacour could help him on the legal front.

Sorry, Fleur, Harry thought grimly as he prepared for a fight. He had no intention of going quietly. He needed to get back to Hogwarts and speak to Dumbledore as soon as possible. Grindelwald's treachery had kept them apart now for too long, and Harry needed to relieve the Headmaster of his burden. It was time to finally join forces and work together to defeat Voldemort – assuming he made it out of here alive, of course.

"You have thirty seconds to comply!" a voice shouted as Harry reached the foot of the stairs. "Or you will be considered a violent threat and exterminated!"

Harry crept to the nearest window and peered outside. He saw a dozen wizards standing in a semi-circle around the castle, all wearing the purple and gold of the International Confederation of Warlocks. That was an encouraging sign, at least: Harry knew the ICW forces were depleted and under-funded thanks to the meeting he'd attended the year before. He might stand a chance against these fighters, who would probably have become mercenaries if they were actually worth their salt in combat.

But he didn't want to engage them in a straight fight either. His best bet was subterfuge...luckily, he was skilled in the art of illusion. With a bit of luck, he could distract the guards long enough to make a run for it, then Portkey away once he reached the ward boundary they'd erected. And if that failed? Well, he hoped Sebastian Delacour could get him a good international lawyer.

Harry twirled his wand and whispered a few quick incantations under his breath. He had to work fast – the element of surprise would be key to his escape. When he was finished, he crept towards the door, hoping his mad plan would work.

"You have ten seconds!" one of the guards shouted from outside. "Five! Four. Three. Two—"

"Who goes there?"

The guard froze. High above the prison courtyard, a shadowy apparition had appeared, taking the cloaked form of a stranger some twenty feet tall. Harry hoped it looked menacing enough, his voice projecting through the smoky figure in a deep, booming register.

"Wh-who are you?" the guard demanded, his voice shaking a bit, which was encouraging.

"I am Death," Harry spoke through the towering figure. "You dare disturb me?"

"Enough of these games!" the guard demanded. "Come out with your hands up!"

"You refuse to bow before Death?" the shadowy figure chuckled. "Very well, then. DIE."

Harry sent the black smoke shooting outwards towards the guards, accompanied by loud screeches and deafening booms. The guards yelped in fear and leapt aside, as the smoke swooped over their heads, nipping at them from above. Harry made his move; concealed beneath Disillusionment and Silencing Charms, he sprinted through the courtyard, making a break for the cliffside.

The guards did not notice him at first, still getting to their feet. But as Harry ran, he felt himself run through an enchantment field, alerting them to his position. "There he is!" someone shouted, as the guards leapt back to attention, firing at Harry as he ran.

Harry erected a Barrier Charm to absorb the guards' spells. He reached the cliff's edge and jumped, diving headfirst into the chasm below. He quickly tapped his wand to his glasses, equipping them with a Night Vision Charm so that he could see the ground below him. He did not want to illuminate his way and give the guards an easier target.

This was a scenario where Harry badly wished he had his Firebolt. But he had the next best thing. With a swipe of his wand, he summoned a heavy gust of wind, running through the valley and catching him in his fall. His trajectory leveled out, now taking him horizontally through the valley, as though flying without a broom. He could not go very fast, and this method expended far more magic than a broom, but it would hopefully get the job done.

"After him!" Harry heard from above and behind him; he turned to see several guards jump after him, mounting broomsticks. Of course, he groaned. He fired several Concussive Charms into the air, hoping to disorient and slow his pursuers. He did not want to cast spells at the guards themselves, as even a simple Stunner would mean certain death from this high up. Harry would only kill if it became necessary.

The valley took him around a bend and through a narrow canyon. How far do their wards extend? Harry wondered. His magic was depleting fast from maintaining the current of wind, and he had not yet felt the tell-tale wash of magic that meant he had passed through the wards. More broomsticks were approaching him now, firing spells at him – they weren't close enough to be accurate yet, but that would change soon. Harry's clothes began to flash gold at intermittent intervals, which meant the Shield Charms imbued into his clothing were starting to be expended.

"Homunculi speculo!" Harry shouted. Two copies of himself sprang into being, which he directed in opposite directions – one shot straight upwards into the sky, while the other did an about-face and rushed back the way they'd come. A small handful of brooms split off to chase the copies, but the majority stayed on Harry. It was a minor distraction, but hopefully enough to buy him time.

"Surrender yourself, intruder!" a nearby guard shouted, his broom coming up alongside Harry. "You have nowhere to run!"

Harry knew that was likely the case. But he had to be nearing the ward boundary now. He swerved and dodged the guard's spells, holding off on fighting back. The valley was nearing its terminus, a high mountain ridge standing in his way...Harry knew he had mere seconds left before he ran out of room...he had to decide now whether to fight, to keep flying, or to simply surrender…

Then, he felt the warm wash of magic as he finally left the boundary of the anti-transportation wards. He plunged his hand into his robes and grabbed hold of his enchanted coin. The guard realized what had happened at the last moment: "No!"

"Fleur!"

Harry felt himself whisked away as the Portkey activated, sending him swirling away in a storm of magic and color. After a prolonged journey, his feet touched down in the Forest of Dean, the quiet night air of Britain welcoming him home with blissful silence.

But he did not remain idle. He had no idea if the British Ministry would be alerted to his arrival, so he Apparated away, re-appearing elsewhere in the countryside. He repeated the process several times, as he had after his Bulgaria outing, weakening the trail and sending any investigators on a wild goose chase. Finally, he Apparated himself out over open ocean, allowing himself to fall several hundred feet before making one last journey to Raven House.

Harry collapsed on the front porch, exhausted from the magic expenditure. He lay face-down in the grass, catching his breath, as he heard Fleur rush out from the house to meet him.

"'Arry!" she exclaimed, kneeling down beside him. "Are you 'urt? 'Ave you been Splinched?"

"No, I'm brilliant," Harry grinned, rolling over onto his back. "Thanks for asking."

"You look like you 'ave been in a fight," Fleur muttered disapprovingly. "What 'appened?"

"I got away, that's what happened," he chuckled. "Why, did you really think a dozen ICW guards could take me on?"

Fleur gave him an exasperated look, then slapped him lightly on the shoulder. "I told you to give yourself up," she sighed. "Why must you make me worry so?"

"Because I am a casse-cou," Harry said with a cheeky wink. "And because I didn't feel like sitting in an ICW cell for weeks on end, waiting for your father to show up."

Fleur pouted at Harry's renegade attitude, but sighed and sat beside him. "Did you find what you were looking for?" she asked.

"Sort of," said Harry. "Grindelwald is a fascinating man. I'm not sure how much I can trust what he told me, but I learned enough."

"Did he tell you about ze Hallows?" asked Fleur. "Can they truly make one 'Master of Death'?"

"That part I'm unsure about," said Harry. "But I know now what we have to do."

"And what is that?"

"It's time to go to Dumbledore," said Harry. "He has the Wand, Neville has the Cloak, and I have the Stone. The three of us need to sit down and have an honest conversation."

"You would willingly open up to them?" Fleur asked, sounding hopeful. "After the way they 'ave treated you?"

"Turns out it was Grindelwald's fault," Harry laughed bitterly. "He convinced Dumbledore I was going dark. That's what started all of this."

Harry saw quite clearly now how Gellert Grindelwald had secretly masterminded all of this. Poisoning Dumbledore's mind, causing him to push Harry away. Angering Harry, which only reinforced Dumbledore's false beliefs about him. Influencing Neville, who took the Headmaster's word at face value, not knowing any better himself. And Luna's prophecy had just been fuel to the fire – inconsequential in the end, except to stoke the flames by inviting interpretation and sowing further distrust between the three.

Well, no more. Harry knew it was time to come clean, to put it all out on the table. They were all victims here, and all to blame at the same time. And Harry was ready to put it behind him, to put an end to this war of words once and for all, so that they could focus on the war that truly mattered.

"I'm proud of you, 'Arry," said Fleur with a sad smile. "I know ze Headmaster can be untrustworthy, but 'e will make our job much easier."

Harry nodded and got to his feet shakily, accepting Fleur's help in doing so. "I'd better get back to the castle, then," he said, checking his watch – it was nearing midnight. "Before I lose my nerve."

"You are going now?" Fleur frowned. "Won't your father be worried?"

"He can wait until morning," said Harry. "I'll go straight home once I'm done. Promise."

Fleur nodded in understanding. "Should I come with you?" she offered.

"I don't think that would be wise," Harry sighed. "The three of us have to have an uncomfortable conversation. It might get messy. Tomorrow I'll contact you and Bill to figure out what our next steps are."

"Very well," said Fleur, giving him a final parting hug. "I am glad you are safe."

Harry, too, was glad to be safe. And for the first time in a while, he felt that perhaps the biggest danger of the war had passed. Once he came clean to Dumbledore and shared what he knew, much of the burden would finally be lifted, and he could take on the supporting role in the war everyone always wanted him to. That didn't sound so bad after all.

After saying farewell to Fleur, Harry Apparated back to Hogsmeade, which was silent and still at this late hour. He strode up the path to the school, which was blocked by the iron gate, still clamped shut to stop his progress. He tentatively cleared his throat.

"Erm...I'd like to come in," he said awkwardly. "I am a student here. Will you let me through?"

He wasn't actually sure if he was a Hogwarts student anymore. He'd intended to end his scholastic career when he left that morning, and Dumbledore might have expelled him after his outburst for all he knew. But to his surprise, the gate swung open at his request, granting him entrance. It seemed that he had not been expelled after all.

Maybe Dumbledore still has hope for me, Harry thought as he walked through the gate. That was a good omen...maybe it meant they had a productive talk ahead of them, if the Headmaster could keep an open mind.

The bright lights of the castle illuminated the dark grounds as Harry strode purposefully up the dirt path. It filled him with warmth – he hadn't expected to ever return here, much less so soon. He hoped his time here now would have a more positive outcome than when he left. Perhaps he, Dumbledore and Neville could all cease their petty squabbles and learn to trust one another at last. Perhaps this would be the turning point in the war, where the good guys finally set aside their differences to defeat a greater evil together.

But Harry quickly realized something was wrong. The warmth he felt was quite literal – it was as though the castle gave off a burning heat that he could feel scalding his skin, even from this distance. And the bright light was not just coming from the lamps illuminating the halls, either. Harry abruptly stopped in his tracks, horrified by the sight before him.

The Great Hall was on fire. And in the distance, Harry could hear the sound of students screaming.