The Battle of Warsaw

Although it was June, the Polish summer felt more like a warm spring in the
northeast of the country. Not that the weather was of any concern to Harry.
No, Grindelwald’s forces would arrive soon, and having returned the very same
day he had taken in Gaulitier’s comrade, he had been preparing for this
eventuality.
As best he could, he had ensured that that any attacking force wouldn’t simply
walk into Warsaw unopposed. Harry knew that it was almost inevitable that
Poland would fall, even Federov had not tried to encourage him otherwise. His
task his was to delay it, to put up a semblance of a fight.
Abandoning the people here did not sit right with him, but much to his relief, it
seemed that many had decided to cut their losses and fled to wherever they
could.
Evidently, the Pols felt the noose closing around them too, and they did not
wish to be here when it tightened.
The magical streets were now deserted, the shops boarded up, for what good
that would do.
Little he suspected, but he was grateful for the absence of people whilst he
went about his business.
Still, he needed to be careful that no innocents were caught in the crossfire of
what was to greet Grindelwald’s men, and even more so because, according to
Federov, the ICW were dispatching a token force to protect the Polish magical
district.
Harry was under no illusions that the force sent to oppose the Dark Lord would
be successful in doing so.
Just like him, they were merely here to delay, not to seek victory. They
wouldn’t be ready for such a push, not for some weeks yet.
Already, Harry felt like he was fighting an uphill battle, and until the gap
between how ready the ICW and Grindelwald respectively was closed, dark
days such as the one he faced now would continue.
(Break)
William had not expected to be called into action so soon after signing up, but
having learned what was to transpire, it had been his group selected to assist
with the defence of Poland.
As explained by Moody, they were to arrive at the Polish ministry and meet
with others that would be waiting for them.
From there, they were to collectively come up with a plan to defend Warsaw,
one that Moody had already told them would be fruitless.
Checking the grey robes he had been issued to ensure he had everything he
needed, he joined the rest of his team in the departure room, the mood within
as dull as their garments.
The grey, according to Moody, would help them blend in with the urban
setting they would be fighting in. Not that they would make much difference.
There was little chance of victory coming, not that William had mentioned this
his family.
Angelica and Charlus were beside themselves with worry and telling them that
he would be heavily outnumbered would not have gone done well at all.
Having been informed of this by Moody, it didn’t fill William with confidence
either, but he was needed here.
He had seen some of the others that had volunteered, and if they were to be
dispatched without further training, they would become nothing more than
martyrs, victims of a needless bloodbath.
Most didn’t even have duelling experience, and those that did certainly needed
to be brought up to standard before they were to see action.
If truth be told, William was worried they never would be, and found himself
hoping that the other countries opposing Grindelwald would have better
offerings.
He doubted it.
Those who had fought in the previous war had mostly likely followed a similar
path to the British that returned.
They buried that part of their lives, choosing not to even speak of their
experiences on the continent. As such, the generation that followed and the
one that would need to fight now, had not been prepared.
William, along with the other lords were different.
They had a duty to protect their families, and though it didn’t happen often,
rivalries could be born through politics or sour business dealings.
One could say what they would about purebloods, but they knew how to
handle themselves if needed.
“Alright,” the voice of Gabriel interrupted his thoughts, “you already know was
this is about. I won’t bullshit you and pretend this is going to be fun. We will be
fighting on the backfoot, and you need to be ready to retreat when given the
command. I’d rather not lose any of you on our first outing. The portkeys will
activate in one minute. Take one, and prepare yourselves,” he instructed,
pointing to a collection of wooden Union Jack flags on a nearby table.
“Are you ready for this, Potter?” Yaxley asked.
The man was the youngest son of Lord Yaxley who had seven in all. David was
as blonde as his father, well-built, and quite gifted with his wand. Sometimes,
he could be quite arrogant, but in the face of what they were coming up
against, William could see none of that now.
“Are you?” the Potter lord returned.
David snorted.
“Not really,” he admitted. “I keep wondering what happens if we don’t make it
home.”
William nodded his understanding.
“You’re to be married to one of the Parkinsons, aren’t you?”
“Mavis,” the blonde confirmed with a smile. “She’s a sweet woman.”
“Then never forget what you’re fighting for, and you’ll see her again,” William
offered comfortingly.
Yaxley nodded gratefully.
“I won’t,” he assured the man. “We’ll make it back. You’ve got your family
waiting for you, and me, I’ve got one I’m looking forward to growing.”
“Five seconds, gents,” Gabriel announced.
“Then let’s go there and come home,” William suggested.
As he finished speaking, he felt himself hooked through the navel as the
portkey activated, and he along with the other nineteen members of his group
were whisked away from the safety of Great Britain.
The room they arrived in was not dissimilar to the one they’d left, the only
difference being that it was bigger, and there were many more people here.
“You must be Gabriel Moody,” a gruff, accented voice greeted them, and
enormous man in matching robes almost ripped Gabriel’s arm from the socket
as he shook his hand. “I am Julian Nowak, Head of the auror department here
in Poland. We are grateful for your assistance.”
Gabriel nodded.
“We are glad to be of assistance.”
Nowak gave him a guarded smile, his jaw tension from the stress he was
under.
“How many of us are there?” Gabriel asked.
“In all, we have a little over one hundred men,” Nowak replied. “We will be
outnumbered, but I know these streets better than any.”
“That is something,” Gabriel sighed. “Any idea how many will come?”
“It could be as few as a thousand or as many as five,” Nowak answered
uncertainly. “The best thing we can do is choose our positions carefully. We
have that advantage at least.”
William shook his head.
It was not an enviable advantage to have when they could be so outnumbered.
“Since none of us have trained together before, we will stay with our own
countrymen,” Nowak explained. “In the circumstances, it is the best we can do.
Come, I will introduce you to the others that will join us.”
The first group they came to were standing in front of a familiar flag of a red,
white, and blue stripe.
“Garnier, this is Moody,” Nowak called to the apparent leader of the French
team.
The Frenchman did not appear to be impressed, and snorted his displeasure.
“Typical English,” he grunted. “Always the last to arrive.”
William felt his irritation rise at his words, but it was Yaxley that voiced his own
first.
“I hope the red and blue on that flag are detachable so you’re ready to fly the
white flag as soon as the fighting starts,” he returned. “Bunch of land burning,
cheese eating, surrendering cowards.”
The Frenchman flushed angrily as the British laughed at Yaxley’s rebuttal.
“That is enough!” Nowak snapped. “If you want to fight each other, you will
wait until the fight with the enemy is over. This is my country, and you will
follow my lead.”
“Rather that than the frogs,” Yaxley muttered.
“Couldn’t agree more, mate,” a voice broke in.
An overly tanned man approached, his white teeth exposed as he smiled
cheerily, seemingly ignorant of the tense situation between the British and the
French.
“The name’s Steve Harris, I’m one of the Aussies here giving the Polish boys a
hand.”
“Nice to meet you, Steve,” Gabriel interjected.
“And you, mate,” Steve replied. “I already told you, chuck, we won’t be
following the froggies. No can do, I’m afraid.”
“You will be following me,” Nowak huffed irritably, “and I told you, my name is
Julian.”
“No harm done,” Steve replied, holding his hands up placatingly. “Lighten up,
fellas. It’s not often we get a good fight like this.”
William decided the man was either an idiot, or completely insane. Whichever
it was, it had no place on a battlefield.
“Anyway, we’ve got the Kiwi’s over there, and the Indians next to them,”
Nowak informed them.
“Is that all?” Gabriel asked.
“No others have answered the call,” Nowak said disappointedly. “We will make
do with what we have. Grindelwald will not take us so easily.”
William did not agree with the native, but he did not voice his thoughts.
“So, when do head out?” Gabriel questioned.
Nowak shrugged.
“There is no time like the present,” he replied thoughtfully. “It will give us the
time to dig in to where we can keep them back.”
“Then lead the way,” Gabriel urged.
Nowak nodded and called the rest of the groups towards him.
“When we leave the Ministry, you will find the streets to be empty,” he
explained. “We have suggested our citizen go into hiding, and our government
has done the same. If it appears that we are going to be overwhelmed, our
Minister will be escorted out of Poland.”
“Why didn’t he leave before?” William asked.
Nowak sighed deeply.
“He is a stubborn man, but also a coward,” he said frustratedly. “He thinks that
he needs to prove that he can lead us during war.”
“Doesn’t seem like he can,” Harris chimed in.
“No,” Nowak agreed, “but he will do what he wishes. Now, are there any
questions before we leave?”
When none spoke, he headed towards the door, gesturing for the other Pols to
stay close to him.
“Well, this is it, gents,” Moody declared, seemingly unfazed by the prospect
that they could all be dead within moments of leaving the warded area. “Let’s
do this.”
William said nothing, his hand reaching for his wand as he mentally prepared
himself for what was to come, his thoughts unavoidably shifting to the wife
and son that were waiting for him at home.
(Break)
Transporting a thousand people proved to be quite the difficult task in itself for
Perseus. Having begun in Germany, the easy part had been getting them into
Czechoslovakia, a country firmly under Grindelwald’s control.
The difficulty was getting them into Poland without being caught in a trap.
With the measures recommended by the ICW, it was too risky to portkey or
apparate in.
Perseus had no doubt that his troops could fend off any force that would
attempt to intercept them, but he risked losing men that way, and that was
unacceptable.
If necessary, he’d have nor regrets in losing a few in battle, but not
unnecessarily before the fighting had even begun.
As such, they had been covertly crossing the border under the cover of
darkness to not alert the Pols to their presence.
Evidently, this had been expected, and navigating their way between the
aurors patrolling the border had not been easy, but they had eventually made
it, much to Perseus’s relief.
“Weber?” he called when they were a safe distance from the aurors looking
out for them. “Inform Gellert that we will be attacking at dawn.”
The German nodded satisfactorily and vanished into the darkness.
He would return across the border before seeking out their leader.
“Alright you lot, get some rest,” he instructed the rest of his large group. “By
this time tomorrow, we will have some warm Polish beds to sleep in.”
His men murmured happily at the prospect and Perseus too settled in for a few
hours of sleep before the sun would rise. bringing bloodshed with it.
(Break)
Gellert was not nervous about what was to come. He had not allowed the ICW
enough time to mount a force that could effectively combat his own, and he
himself would ensure that no interference came from the north-eastern
border that separated Poland from the Russian-controlled lands, and Lithuania.
He didn’t expect they would come to assist the Polish, but there was potential
for them to implement a coup of their own in the chaos.
He would not allow that.
For days, he had listened to the jeering sent back and forth between the Polish
and Russian aurors on opposing sides, the relationship between the two
countries tense, and volatile.
If the Russians could be trusted, perhaps Gellert would have used this to his
advantage and provoked a confrontation between the two.
However, he did not wish to make an enemy of Russia. Not yet at least.
His army needed to expand considerably before he was ready to tackle such a
vast land.
For now, he was content with seizing control of Poland, again paving the way
for the muggles when the Germans decided they wished to defy the treaty
they signed with the British and the French.
When that day would be, he knew not, but it would come.
The Germans would never be satisfied with their lot.
“Weber,” he greeted his spy as the man appeared beside him. “How is Perseus
fairing?”
“Well enough,” the Westphalian answered. “His men have crossed the border,
and he wished for me to inform you that they will attack at dawn.”
Gellert nodded.
“Then I will secure the area shortly before. It would not do for any to
interfere.”
“There is still the ICW,” Weber pointed out.
“Who know nothing of my intentions.”
“Perhaps not,” Weber replied cautiously, “but I have urged Perseus to be
prepared to meet more resistance than he is expecting. If they have managed
to gather men, and they have learned of your intentions, they will be here.
Remember, Gustav was sent to gather intelligence and never returned. There
is a possibility he was recognised and captured.”
Gellert hummed thoughtfully.
“What can we expect from them?”
“Very little,” Weber said dismissively. “According to my sources, they are
currently training recruits in their own lands, but it is always better to be
overprepared than under.”
Gellert nodded.
“As always, you have proven your wisdom and cunning,” he praised. “I would
like you to keep watching Perseus. Observe him from afar and report to me
when he has done.”
“And if he requires assistance?” Weber asked. “He does have almost a quarter
of your army.”
Gellert frowned at the thought.
“That too,” he agreed. “I will remain here ensuring that no attempt to interfere
is made.”
Weber nodded before vanishing with a gentle pop.
Gellert did not like how uncertain his spy seemed, but he gave the man’s
demeanour little thought.
Weber was paranoid by nature, and for him to urge caution was to be
expected.
Perseus would be fine carrying out his task. He had more than enough men to
do so, and he was no fool.
Any resistance met would be crushed, and within only a matter of hours,
Gellert would have another country to add to his growing list of territories.
(Break)
For the past hours it had been quiet. A little before midnight, Harry had been
concerned by the sudden arrival of a large group of wizards, only to hear
British voices amongst them.
With only a little investigation and listening in to their conversations, he
learned that this was the force sent by the ICW to delay Grindelwald’s
invasion.
It was a token gesture at best, but something was better than nothing, even if
it wouldn’t be enough to hold the Dark Lord off for any length of time.
A small part of Harry tried to grasp at some kind of hope that they may be
successful, but it would be a grasp indeed, and with nothing to show for it.
Harry knew, as did everyone else that the efforts here would only bear fruit for
Grindelwald, something that only became more real as the sun began to rise
and he spotted a much larger group converging on to the magical district of
Warsaw.
“Bollocks!” he cursed.
The ICW offering would be outnumbered around five to one, unfavourable
odds, and likely insurmountable.
Nonetheless, Harry watched as Grindelwald’s men carefully entered the
streets, seemingly perplexed by how empty they were.
Not that they would be for long.
Although the outlook of the outcome wasn’t good, Harry had vowed that he
would not make it easy for them, and he intended to be a man of his word.
He may not taste victory today, but the blood of the enemy would flow.
The thought brought a smirk to his lips as he readied himself, his wand primed
as he looked down on them from his vantage point.
(Break)
“There’s no one here,” Perseus chuckled happily.
He had been prepared for battle, had envisioned himself leading his men to a
great victory, but there was not a soul in sight.
He was relieved, but there was a hint of disappointment that he couldn’t
ignore.
He had expected that the Polish aurors would offer some resistance at least.
Perhaps the government had already decided to surrender to Gellert?
Perseus frowned at the thought.
If that were true, wouldn’t the Minister be here to do so officially?
He shook his head.
None knew he and his men were coming, so it made sense that the Minister or
a representative would be absent.
But where was everybody else?
“Why are the shops boarded up?” one of his men asked.
That was a good question.
“They knew we would be coming, they just didn’t know when,” Perseus
answered confidently. “Well, let us not waste any time. Let’s search the area
and settle in. I’m sure they’ll come to offer their surrender soon enough.”
An uproarious cheer went up at his declaration, and without hesitation, the
men split up to see what spoils could be found.
Perseus followed suit his head held high in the knowledge that Gellert would
be proud of him.
Although there had been no fighting, his venture had yielded the same result.
Another country had fallen to his leader, and that was all that mattered.
His smile quickly fell as an enormous explosion rent the air, and Perseus felt
himself slammed into the ground.
With his ears ringing, and struggling to draw breath, his swimming vision was
invaded by thick smoke, the flickering of orange flames barely visible through
it.
He didn’t know how long he laid there, but by the time he managed to push
himself to his feet, the ringing had stopped, and all he heard was screaming
followed by more explosions.
Out of desperation, he stood and took a few staggered breaths, choking on the
fog that suffocated the streets.
He tasted the tang of blood, and pressed his palm to his throbbing temple, only
to find it wet, and shining red in the glow of the nearby flames as he inspected
it.
Perseus was in trouble, and as he tried to ascertain what had happened, he
stumbled forward in an attempt to reach fresh air, only to slam into the ground
once more.
At first, he believed he had been felled by another explosion, but when he
looked down, he saw that he had merely tripped on the remains of one of his
men who had taken the worst of one of the detonations.
Perseus found himself staring into the vacant eyes of a man he’d shared a
drink with only a few nights prior, his torso having been torn diagonally in half,
his guts protruding morbidly where they’d been shredded by the blast.
Without thought, Perseus vomited, and did so repeatedly until he was dry
heaving, once more fighting to breathe.
This is not what he had imagined, nor what he’d prepared for, but he couldn’t
just lie here.
If he didn’t move, he would suffocate, and that was not an acceptable way for
a Black to meet his end.
Not trusting his legs, he began to crawl, groaning with the effort it took to not
focus on the dismembered limbs and bodies he had to navigate through.
(Break)
“What the fucking hell was that?” Gabriel questioned.
The entire British group had frozen in the pub they had taken shelter in when
the explosion had sounded, the screaming that followed bloodcurdling.
“I don’t know,” William replied. “Should we check it out?”
Gabriel nodded before cutting a spyhole in the door.
“I can’t see anything, there’s smoke everywhere.”
Another explosion, this one much closer, rattled the windows.
“Bloody hell,” William huffed. “If one of those things goes off near here, we’re
buggered.”
“Then we should get out,” Yaxley suggested.
“Alright,” Gabriel agreed. “I don’t like being in here anymore than you lot.
We’ll go out but stay close. We don’t know what’s happening. Strike first if you
need to, ask questions later.”
Having unlocked the door with a flick of his wand, he edged out, followed by
William and the other Brits that had joined them.
“Any idea what that was mate?” a voice called from a short distance away.
The Australians had settled into a café only a few shops down, they too curious
with their leader investigating what was transpiring around them.
Gabriel ducked as another detonation shook the street.
“Not a clue,” he called back, “we are going to have a look.”
“We’ll come with you,” Harris decided. “I don’t fancy being a sitting duck
here.”
Gabriel shrugged, and they waited for the Australians to reach them, the sound
of screaming yet to cease.
“You don’t think our lot have copped it, do you?” Harris asked.
Gabriel shook his head.
“No, we are under strict instructions not to,” he reminded his counterpart. “No
fighting unless necessary. We would have received a message before anything
happened.”
“Then who’s fighting?”
“Your guess is as good as mine,” Gabriel muttered. “Come on, let’s take a
look.”
Harris nodded, and slowly but surely, the two teams headed towards where
the smoke was thickest and the screams loudest.
“Fuck me, how many did they bring?”
William couldn’t answer that question. What he saw was something he would
never forget.
Everywhere he looked, people were running in all directions, the chaos
provoking a sense of panic in Grindelwald’s men as they tripped over their
fallen comrades.
“What are we waiting for, let’s get them mopped up!” Harris commanded.
“No, wait!”
Gabriel’s words fell on deaf ears as the Australians, inspired by the words of
their leader, surged into action.
“He’s mental,” William muttered.
“Aye,” Gabriel agreed, “but we can’t let them do it alone. Come on, lads.”
With a shake of his head, William followed, transfiguring debris as he went.
By the time their presence was noted, he’d accumulated a gathering of
creatures to assist him, a rottweiler made from stone mauling the first man
that tried to engage him.
Whilst his creations went to work, William delved into the magic he never
thought he would use beyond the training room in his home, the spells that
generations of Potters had gathered and used throughout the past centuries.
Ducking a jet of orange light, he returned fire against his newest assailant, the
man screaming as his ribcage was torn open like a set of doors.
He fell silent quickly and William gathered up more debris, this time creating a
vortex around himself.
It had been some time since he’d used this kind of magic, but it felt as familiar
to him as ever.
Spotting a large gathering of men attempting to regroup, he banished several
large rocks at them.
Most were quick enough to avoid the blows, but those that weren’t were
pelted, the sound of breaking bones and stone thudding against flesh heard
over the crackling flames.
William did not have time to ponder this.
The men that had escaped his onslaught had composed themselves, their
wands ready and pointed at him.
He was outnumbered, and more foes were gathering themselves.
He cursed the Australian under his breath as he readied himself for a fight that
he wasn’t certain he could win.
With a nod, he brought his own wand to bear, a curse on his lips, only for his
eyes to widen as he took cover.
An explosion tore through the street and the men he was to face off with, a
mess of blood and body parts visible streaked across the pavement as the
smoke cleared.
William could only shake his head, as taken aback as he was relieved by the
unexpected reprieve.
(Break)
They were watching him warily, the Polish aurors manning the border having
spotted Gellert only an hour ago. He had no doubt they recognised him, but
they made no move towards attacking.
It brought a smile to his lips, and even the Russians had asked why they had
fallen quiet.
There had been no response from the Pols who chatted worriedly amongst
themselves.
They knew why he was here, what was likely happening in their country whilst
they stood idly by and did nothing to oppose him.
Gellert chuckled, a frown marring his features at the sound of hurried
footsteps approaching him from behind.
“What is it?” he asked.
Weber was somehow paler than usual, an uncharacteristic expression of
concern prevalent.
“Their arrival was expected,” he said darkly. “Perseus walked into an ambush.”
Gellert’s jaw tightened.
“Show me,” he commanded, taking the German by the arm.
They vanished, and Gellert’s nose was filled with a sickening scent of burning
flesh and blood.
Taking in the carnage around him, he drew his wand, his eyes narrowing.
“He’s here,” he muttered.
“Who?” Weber asked.
“The Serpent. I can feel him.”
Unwilling to allow any to escape, Gellert erected a series of wards that would
keep all here within the magical district.
There was no escape.
“Now, let us put an end to this,” he murmured.
Not waiting for a response, Gellert entered the fray, putting an end to a man in
grey robes who attempted to curse him.
Were it not for his faster reflexes, he would have been successful.
Not being able to see further than a few feet in front of him, Gellert cleared
the smoke with an elaborate wave of his wand, the devastation of what had
happened being presented to him.
The street was strewn with bodies, most being followers of his, but with the
smoke no longer clouding his vision, he could see what they were up against.
The resistance the ICW was pathetic.
There could be little more than a hundred men, and though he had lost many
of his own, the numbers were very much in his favour.
“IT’S GRINDELWALD!” a voice shouted.
The men garbed in grey huddle together whilst Gellert’s forces began
regrouping behind him.
“You fought bravely,” Gellert addressed them. “Your plan to ambush my men
worked, but not well enough. Surely you can see that you are beaten. Now,
throw down your wands and I will allow you to live.”
“No chance of that, mate,” an Australian replied.
“Do not be foolish!” Gellert urged. “I will not give you another chance.”
“Look, Steve told you to piss…”
Gellert lost his patience with the man, and he collapsed to the ground clawing
at his throat.
“You have pride,” he acknowledged. “It is an admirable trait, but one that I do
not have time to entertain. If you do not drop your wands, you will die.”
“You’ll kill us if we do,” a voice snorted, this one undeniably English. “I’d rather
die with my wand in my hand.”
Gellert narrowed his eyes at the man.
“What is your name?”
“William Potter.”
The man standing before him was not old, but neither was he young. He was
middle-aged, his black hair streaked lightly with grey.
“A Potter?” Gellert questioned, unable to hide his surprise. “Well, William
Potter, today is your lucky day. I’m going to allow you to die with your wand in
your hand. You and I will duel, and if you win, I will allow you and your men to
leave.”
William shook his head.
“You will let them go, and then we fight.”
Gellert chuckled.
“You’re in no position to negotiate, and my generosity has worn thin. You will
either fight me or you will die where you stand.”
William nodded.
“Up yours,” he spat.
Gellert felt his anger rise at the defiance, and struck out with his wand once
more, but paused as a warm rush of wind blew past him.
Before he could react, something slammed into the ground and a green fire
erupted between him and William Potter forcing both men back several feet.
“I KNOW IT’S YOU!” Gellert roared. “SHOW YOURSELF!”
Both groups on the opposing sides of the flames appeared to be confused until
a figure emerged from the fire, his wand drawn as he stared fearlessly at
Grindelwald.
“You will let these men return to their families,” The Serpent said calmly.
Gellert laughed.
“I do not think I will,” he replied. “They have attacked my followers and defied
me when I showed mercy.”
“Something that you are guilty of,” The Serpent returned. “You have the
opportunity to save the life of the rest of your men, and yet, you choose for
them to die instead.”
Gellert narrowed his eyes thoughtfully at his foe.
“You are in no position to make threats.”
The Serpent smirked.
“Gentlemen,” he said, turning his attention to the ICW men. “You will retreat
to the other side of the magical district where you will leave.”
“No chance, lad,” the British leader snorted. “We won’t leave you to face them
alone.”
Gellert laughed once more.
“You see, Serpent, the fools do not wish to be saved,” he mocked. “Why don’t
you leave, and you and I will settle our differences another day.”
The Serpent shook his head.
“It seems we have reached an impasse.”
“There is no impasse, my dear boy” Gellert denied. “You and yours have been
defeated. I will make the same offer to you I did them. Drop your wand, and I
will allow you to live.”
The Serpent pondered the stipulation before nodding.
“Allow them a place to use their portkeys and I will comply.”
Gellert created a pocket within his wards, the thought of finally capturing The
Serpent outweighing his desire to punish the ICW contingent.
“The building behind them,” he said simply. “I would urge them to be quick
about it before I change my mind.”
“Go,” The Serpent instructed, turning towards the few dozen men that
remained of the ICW fighters.
Reluctantly, they did so, and Gellert felt himself filled with glee.
“Now, for your end of the deal.”
(Break)
Harry glared balefully at Grindelwald. He hadn’t expected the man would
show, let alone arrive in time before the ICW fighters had taken their leave.
What kind of idiot would engage a force that outnumbered them so
significantly in such a way?
It was foolish and left them in the vulnerable position they faced now.
Much to his relief, the man leading the British group seemed to have taken the
strong hint that Harry knew what he was doing and led them away, some more
reluctantly than others.
Whomever it was that had stood against the man before him now had shown
courage, but it would have likely ended badly.
Grindelwald perhaps would have kept to his word and allowed them to leave,
but Harry didn’t think so.
He gained nothing from defeating a single man that held no meaning to him.
With Harry, however, it was different.
Grindelwald had not been able to deny himself the chance to kill him, even if it
did mean the others would go free.
“I’m waiting, Serpent,” Grindelwald broke into his thoughts, the man becoming
impatient.
Having given the ICW force enough time to bid their retreat, Harry complied
and threw his wand at Grindelwald’s feet, a smirk tugging at his lips as the man
bent down to retrieve it.
As he did so, Harry unleashed a loud hiss and clapped his hands.
The flames behind washed over him and crashed towards Grindelwald and his
forces, causing the Dark Lord to spring into action.
His attempt to rebuff the emerald flames failed, but it was not the fire that
would hurt him directly. Such a spell would take more time than Harry had in
the moment, but it would certainly offer the needed distraction.
“Come on, move your arse, lad,” the British leader called having not made his
exit when instructed.
He was hanging out of the doorway of the building, his hand outstretched.
Harry cursed under his breath in irritation, vanishing in a plume of smoke as
several dozen spells were sent his way.
He ploughed into the Brit, sending the man sprawling into the entranceway of
what appeared to be a pub.
“Activate them then!” Harry commanded, taking note that the leader was not
the only one that remained behind.
The leader grabbed hold of his wrist just as the entire front wall of the pub
imploded, and the group were whisked away from the Dark Lord and his many
followers that remained.
(Break)
Gellert was furious. The flames that ploughed towards him were nothing more
than a smokescreen, a diversion so The Serpent could once again escape his
grasp.
With a roar of unbridled anger, he levelled his wand towards the building he
had so graciously provided for the ICW men to leave, the front of the pub
being reduced to rubble.
Serving to anger him further, the wand of his foe vanished before his eyes, but
he did not have time to focus on that.
Several shouts of panic filled the air and Gellert turned to see the mutilated
bodies of his fallen warriors standing, their eyes glowing an eerie green.
“What is this?” Weber asked worriedly from beside him.
Before Gellert could answer, the dead began to hiss, and large snakes began to
erupt from their mouths.
Immediately, his men set to work destroying them, and Gellert could only
clench his jaw until the last of them was eviscerated.
He had been duped, The Serpent demonstrating his lack of honour.
“Have the dead gathered and burned,” he instructed Weber. “Where is
Perseus?”
“I do not know.”
“Then find him!”
Weber slinked off to carry out his instructions, and Gellert surveyed the
devastation around him.
He had lost many men, those leading them having become complacent, their
arrogance knowing no bounds.
“Fools,” he muttered.
His campaign here may have been successful, but it came at a much higher
cost than he was willing to pay. He had thought a show of strength would
deter any resistance, but he had not considered the stubbornness of his
enemies.
The same mistake would not be made again.
“I have found him, Gellert,” Weber announced as he approached. “He is not in
a good way.”
“But he is alive?”
Weber nodded.
“Take me to him.”
Weber led him to where the injured were being gathered and to a prone
figure, his dark hair thick with blood that was spilling from a deep gash near his
temple.
“I’m sorry, Gellert,” Perseus wheezed. “We thought no one was here.”
Gellert was angry, but seeing the young man in such a state, he knew that
Perseus had been punished enough.
“We were victorious, Perseus,” Gellert replied, giving his hand a squeeze. “That
is all that matters. We make mistakes, and we learn from them.”
Perseus was not the only one who had made an error today.
“It won’t happen again,” the younger man vowed.
“See that it doesn’t. Now, focus on getting better. Our journey has only just
begun.”
Perseus nodded, and Gellert turned away, trying to find something positive to
focus on.
Victory had come at a high cost, but it had come, nonetheless.
It was a bittersweet realisation, but it was all he had.
Until he claimed the life of The Serpent, of course.
(Break)
Harry and the British men that he had absconded with crashed to the ground
in a crumpled heap, the former pushing himself to his feet and drawing his
wand immediately.
“Where are we?” he asked.
“Take it easy, lad, we are in Britain,” the leader assured him. “My name is
Gabriel Moody.”
“Moody?” Harry asked, surprised.
“You have heard of me?”
“The name is familiar.”
Moody grinned and Harry released a deep breath.
“Why didn’t you bloody leave when you had the chance?” he sighed.
“We don’t leave one of our own behind,” Moody answered. “You’re British,
aren’t you?”
Harry nodded, and Moody grinned an all too familiar grin.
“Told you he was one of us,” a voice interjected.
“Well, Yaxley, I suppose you’re not always wrong,” Moody chuckled. “Anyway,
it was the least we could do. None of us would have made it out of there if it
wasn’t for you.”
The other British men nodded their agreement, but Harry waved them off.
“What a bloody mess.”
“Aye,” Moody agreed. “We weren’t expecting so many.”
“And we wouldn’t have ended up where we did if it wasn’t for that insane
Australian,” Yaxley added.
“Well, he’s dead now,” another muttered, and Harry couldn’t hide his surprise
at seeing William Potter here, a gesture the Potter lord did not miss.
“We made it home, that’s the main thing,” Moody declared, “and we didn’t
lose any us.”
“We were lucky,” William pointed out. “If it wasn’t for this young man…”
“The Serpent,” Yaxley broke in once more. “I’ve heard of him. I’m surprised
none of you lot have. He’s a Hit-Wizard.”
William’s eyes widened, and he scrutinised Harry closely.
“Then we should be grateful he was there,” Moody declared. “You’re crazier
than my old grandad, and he’s out of his damned mind.”
Harry shook his head.
“I was only doing what I was sent to do,” he explained. “We were all lucky
today. Go home,” he sighed. “There’s nothing left for you to do now.”
“I don’t need telling twice,” Yaxley replied, heading towards the door.
He was followed by the rest of the group other than Moody and William.
“I need to have a word with Diggory and explain what happened,” he
grumbled. “I’ll see you tomorrow, Potter.”
William nodded, though his eyes remained firmly on Harry, a thoughtful frown
creasing his brow.
“Gabriel,” he acknowledged as Moody left.
The two remaining men stared at one another for a moment, and it was
William that broke the silence.
“You’re a parselmouth.”
Harry nodded.
“Angelica would lock you in the basement if she knew what you were doing,
Harry,” William sighed, evidently not wanting to focus on the revelation of
Harry’s ability.
“She knows that I am a Hit-Wizard,” Harry pointed out.
William snorted.
“Not that you’re doing insane things like that. What the hell were you
thinking?”
“I could ask you the same question,” Harry returned. “Why were you there?”
“I am doing my part,” William replied with a shrug. “I cannot sit by and let all
this happen.”
“But you have a family,” Harry bit back heatedly. “What did Charlus have to
say? What about your wife?”
William’s expression darkened.
“It is because of them that I am doing this,” he snapped. “When you have a
family of your own, Harry, you will understand.”
His final words were not given in anger, but as William took his leave from the
room, Harry felt the sting of them more than he did the sad expression of the
man.
It wasn’t as though the Potter lord knew any better, but Harry could not ignore
the hurt nor the yearning he felt to correct his great-grandfather.
“I’m Harry Potter,” he whispered to himself.
A truth that only he and few others knew of, and one of them the ones that it
would truly matter to.