13
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
"YOU ARE NOT DOING IT without me," The Bulgarian seeker's voice was curt, demanding, and the sentiment made my eyes snap towards his in startling surprise. He had stayed silent for a while, a battle going on in his mind as he had rubbed his hands over the skin on his head. A coping mechanism I couldn't fathom.
The tips of his ears and the high points of his sand colored face had pinched red, as though he was burning with a fever. It was his discomfort, I realized slowly. But why volunteer if such was the unease?
"What?" I let out, my voice tinged with amusement. There was no way he had come to believe that, there was no way I would let him believe that. When had I, at any turn, mentioned that i would need his help?
"No, I'm certainly doing this without you, Viktor Krum," I spoke, my eyes narrowing at him. "Do not involve yourself in this. Stay out of it, stay out of my way."
I made to walk away, but he gripped my elbow again. His tight grip made jolts of pain travel up my muscles and I winced, meeting his eyes sharply.
"You touch me again, Krum and you will wish you hadn't," I snapped, my fingers already twitching. In my mind, I suddenly saw the Bulgarian seeker's eyes plunged deep in his sockets, so that on his face were two gaping holes as he doubled over, coughing up a stream of blood onto the ground beside my feet. I saw two of my fingers drenched and dripping in blood at my side. Shocked, I shook my head, snapping myself away from the violence of my actions.
My eyes focused on the Durmstrang in front of me and I saw his anthracite eyes fixed intently on me in slight confusion and curiosity. They were still in his sockets. I held back a sigh of relief. The last time I had had a vision like this—blatant, hot white anger showing me the result of my actions, was in the Grand Hall when Gabriel Chevrolet had confronted Harry Potter. The violence of these visions was increasing inside me, and they felt so real. They weren't openings into the future, just alternate realities that I couldn't fathom, because why would I find myself in the same spot after a long time, having the same conversation with Viktor Krum and just ripping out his eyes afterwards? Did these visions stem from Grindelwald having control through my mark? But I wasn't sure of that either—
A hissing pain seared through my shoulder, generated from the deathly hallows mark. I whimpered. It felt like I had been stabbed, a sharp blade slowly plunging in my skin perpendicular to my arm. The tip of the blade buried so deep, it touched my clavicle through bones and muscle. And for a second, I truly believed Viktor Krum had stabbed me. This pain felt too much like a knife plunge to not be a stab. But when I dropped to my knees clutching my shoulder, and looked up to meet the alarmed expression in his eyes, I knew he had nothing to do with it. I retrieved my hand held over my shoulder, my palm remained clean. No blood.
"Are you alright?" His tone was hesitant, uncertain as his hands hovered in mid air, unsure of what to do. I realized then that I had expressively forbade him to touch me again.
"What is it?" He pressed, ebony eyes wide in slight panic.
I exhaled a breath. The Ilvermorny stone floor was striking cold, and the iciness of it seeped up the skin at my knees and into my thighs. My other hand holding the ground for support, felt debris and dirt under the palm, and I quickly brushed it against my skirts and tried to hold myself steady. The hallway was so dark now, the Durmstrang's form was washed in darkness and I felt as though he would disappear in it entirely.
"Nothing," I managed, my voice surprisingly levelled. The pain had subsided, as though instead of pulling the knife out from the wound, it had been made to diffuse into mist, causing the wound to not be in the first place.
The calling. If Grindelwald had control of my mark, then it was the calling. This was no burn I had felt in the times before. This was more than just a burn. This was a desperate attempt to bring me to my knees, a desperate attempt to grab me and shout in my ear because I wasn't listening.
With chilling clarity, I realized that I had to go now. I had to go to Grindelwald now. Postponing this, especially after the pain I just felt, could not be done. Another jab like this and I felt as though I might die on the spot. Grindelwald wouldn't kill me if he was calling for me, but the lengths he would go to felt so extreme now. The lengths he would go to felt like they were heavy iron chains wrapped around my neck.
I gripped a wall for support and pulled myself up, breathing deeply.
"Lavigne," Viktor Krum hissed and I almost forgot that he was there. I looked at him, my expression molted into resolve. I had no time to waste.
"I have to go," I spoke, and quickly walked past him in the direction I had come. If I could only get back towards the Grand Hall, I'll find my way to the east wing dormitories in no time.
I half expected him to follow me. Inside, though I refused still to tell him anything Gregorovitch had told me, a miserable voice inside me wanted him to insist on coming along. It wished desperately that he would come along. I suppose it stemmed from the physical comfort of having someone by when I faced my great uncle. But couldn't that comfort be provided by anyone? Why then did this treacherous voice inside me wanted his company?
I walked, my heels clicking against the cold, dark stone floor of the Ilvermorny hallway. No footsteps followed me, no accent cried out my name. Had Krum given up? Regardless of that small voice inside me, I hoped with the rest of me that he had.
I found myself in Bridgette and I's dorm afterwards. She wasn't here, since dinner at the Grand Hall was still ongoing, and I doubted she'd want to retire so early to sleep. I paced about the dorm, a hand still holding a shoulder lest the mark started acting up viciously again. I found that I feared the waiting, because the agony of it was too immense to be wanted again.
What would be my next step? Should I just leave right now? Head for Nurmengard all the way in Austria, with no knowledge of getting into the prison without the authorities finding out? And no knowledge of when or if I would be back? How would my absence at Ilvermorny be dealt with? Should I just temper with time again? The questions were meek and powerless in face of the consequences that would happen were I to not go. There were wizards searching for the knowledge of The Elder Wand, and how long should I carry it without acquiring the wand myself? The knowledge of it was as dangerous as the possession of it. Should I just wait around until an Azkaban or Nurmengard escapee got to me and extracted the information? Or I should I get the wand and ensure it's safety entirely to make sure nobody else got their hands on it? The answer was clear to me. It had been clear when I had wiped Gregorovitch's memories, I just hadn't realized it.
But how should I do this? I shut my eyes tight, and took a deep breath. Then opening them, I looked at my wand in my hand. The silver part of it shone under the moonlight falling from the open window, and the dark green of it darkened further. Staring at it, I suddenly had my answer. It was the only way and no other options were popping up. Madame Maxime, as indulged in Ilvermorny's lavish treatment of her person as she had become, would not allow for my departure anywhere, especially while we were here for the Huntlock. Back at Beauxbatons, a family emergency infused in a letter would have sufficed for her to even consider, but not here.
Bending over my suitcase as I pulled it away from the wall it was resting against, I dug around in the hidden quarter inside and pulled out my extension pouch. In it, I put my silver time turner, neatly folding the chain. Then I put together a few supplies—fresh water bottles and food to last me at least a few days. I could always use my magic to replenish my food supply if it ran out, but food was no good when even the ingredients had been formed through magic, everyone knew that. And in my time spending a few of my nights in the forest outside my home after my great uncle had been taken to Nurmengard, I knew better. I hadn't done it in solidarity with him, I had done it for my mother. She had gone strange when Grindelwald had been put in Nurmengard, she had acted like a marionette gone crazy once its strings were cut. She had screamed and laughed maniacally in the middle of nights, and a ten year old me hadn't liked that.
After stuffing everything I might need in my extension pouch, including changes of clothes and coverings in case of severe climate, I tightened the drawstring and hid a the pouch with a quick charm on my person. Then, I quickly showered and changed into a pair of flare jeans, a shirt, and my thick knee high boots. Finally grabbing a long dark brown coat, putting it on and and securing it's belt around my waist. I felt warm enough, so I stopped layering. If I needed more, I could always refer to my extension pouch.
Tucking my wand inside my boots, I inhaled a sharp breath and put my fingers together to draw a rune in the air. It took a while to create, since I had done it only once before, at the age of ten when I first escaped into the forest. The rune glowed a stark ocean blue once it was done, and mirrored the colored gleam on the tips of the fingers I had used. The light of it bathed my entire form, and I closed my eyes, slowly exhaling and setting my intention to the very last detail.
The rune was similar to the memory erasing rune, but it had a few intricacies it. This rune was also a memory erasing rune, but this time, it was collective, and it would work differently if it worked. This would erase my existence from the memory of all those at Ilvermorny for a time so that nobody thinks to look for me. When I was ten, I did this for the first time, with the hope that my mother and our neighbors would not not look for me when I slept in the forest. But if it was my mother's general disinterest in me in wake of Grindelwald's new capture, or if the rune had worked correctly, I hadn't realized fully.
With the intention set, I opened my eyes and the rune glowed even brighter with it's newfound intention, then with a puff of wispy light, it dissipated into thin air and everything went still as it had been before. The night air blew in through the sheer curtains, and I saw a dark wisp fly by in the distance. A dementor. It seemed that they were intent on not abandoning their watch over Ilvermorny now that they had arrived.
Slowly but cautiously, I made my way over to our beds, and found mine to be pristine, as though it hadn't been slept in at all. My suitcase had disappeared, and the framed moving picture of me and Bridgette over on the side table had been reduced to holding only her, as she played with the fall leaves by herself. We had taken that picture as fourth years. A jolt of panic shot through me as I assured myself that I could undo this, I just had no time at present to check if I could when I would.
I couldn't bring myself to temper with time again. Stopping time for a few hours was fine, rewinding it for a few hours was fine. But for more than days? I hadn't ever done that before, and there was no one to tell me if it would end well, which I felt in my gut it wouldn't. So this, in turn, had been the only option.
Then I drew the three runes of my translocation, and as they burned a silver gold, I murmured my chant, setting the intention of the Austrian Alps near Nurmengard Castle strong in my mind. But then, my attention wavered and fear enveloped me. This was it. I was going to my great uncle. Gregorovitch's words, in the candle lit quaint drawing room of his cottage, burned in my mind like the warmth of his presence.
'He loved you, you know. Grindelwald had such affection for that it made him mortal in my eyes.'
And suddenly, I found myself pressed between the pressure of air, and I was leaving. Leaving the dorm at Ilvermorny. Before the rush of the air could crumple my form, I found my feet placed firm on the ground and I opened my eyes, my head hurting slightly. I was standing in a roof less mess of a cottage. The falling snow had piled in on the blown apart furniture and the wooden scattered flooring. I realized with a start that I was back in Gregorovitch's house. It was the early hours of the morning and the sun had barely risen. The sky was streaked in blue and orange.
"No," I hissed, cursing inwardly.
My attention had wavered and a wrong intention had been set. I was back at Gregorovitch's place, and not with the intention of giving him his memory back. I couldn't do that right now, not before I had The Elder Wand in my possession. It made no sense to be here, but I was tired suddenly. The exhaustion of hurtling myself through air like thrice in the matter of forty two hours was slowly weighing at me. And my head hurt with this last endeavor.
Taking a breath, I pushed my anxiety back. I had to wait until I could transport myself again, or I wouldn't land on my two feet in the Austrian Alps. I also needed a plan on how to get inside the castle, a plan I had been intending to figure out in the snow covered Alps, but I suppose Gregorovitch's busted cottage was a good place as any to do exactly that.
But.. where was he?
I looked around, my boots crunching the mounts of snow underneath my feet as I stepped over rubble and stones. It hadn't even been a full day since this destruction had occurred, he couldn't have of course fixed it all by now. Not if he had no idea how to, except by using manual labor. I wondered if he could even use his wand after what I did to him. The guilt crept up again then, like a snake up my spine. I had told myself it was for his own good, and I must stick to that.
"Mr Gregorovitch?" I called slowly, keeping my voice low.
There was no longer another floor to ascend to for the stairs had long shattered, along with the floor upstairs which had readily crashed down. Most of the rubble had stayed as the last time I had seen it. Gregorovitch had made no adjustments whatsoever. There was a thick sheet of snow covering everything like a blanket. He had not even dragged his now dirty and dust covered mattress from under a big piece of the upstairs flooring. Where had he been sleeping then?
"Mr Gregorovitch," I spoke his name again, and no sound rose to greet me except that of the wind outside.
In the distance, I could make out a series of cottages snuffing out their candle lights in their small glass windows as the sun fully ascended into the sky. I had cut off Gregorovitch's connection with the outside world for the duration of his state, which meant that he couldn't go anywhere except be here. Then where was he? The enchantment I had also put over the house meant that none of Gregorovitch's familiars could approach him for the duration of his state. They couldn't see him, or find him. So why wasn't he here?
Panic infiltrated me then, when I had quickly surveyed the entirety of the space, going as far as to move heavy rubble around, knowing I had left him alive and uncrushed.
"No, no," I murmured, my heart pounding in my chest. "He doesn't know anything."
They wouldn't take a man with no memories, would they? He had nothing anymore to tell anyone who was seeking out The Elder Wand. He had nothing of value to say, so why then was he not here? Had I made a mistake, leaving him like that? Viktor Krum had warned me, hadn't he? Warned me not to just leave him like that. But I had.
A shuffle suddenly sounded in my periphery. A shuffle of feet, of shoes against the crust of snow. I whipped my head towards the sound. It had come from behind the stack of rubble we had hid behind during the visit from the intruder. The stack of rubble that had acted as a wall, as tall as my height.
"Mr Gregorovitch?" I called again, relief prematurely threading inside me. Please let it be him.
But out from behind the wall, stepped the tall figure of the Bulgarian seeker, Viktor Krum, as he rubbed at his clothes in irritation, trying to get debris off. I gasped at the sight of him. He wasn't supposed to be here. Why was he here?
"W-what are you doing here?" I cried, my voice unlevelled as the fear of losing Gregorovitch to the unknown twisted and churned inside me. "I told you to stay away! Did you follow me? But I made sure no one would, I—"
"I placed a tracker on you," His words cut through the air, his eyes fixed intently on me, expression resolute. He was not wearing his dark brown and red Durmstrang uniform, instead, he was dressed in a woolen sweater with a coat thrown over and casual jeans that ended in a pair of black shoes. He looked.. startling in casual clothes. Though his intimidation was still there, it just felt a little tamed when he wasn't wearing the Durmstrang crest on his chest.
"You what?" I breathed, frustration ebbing away at me. "Why? How dare you!"
"One of my sensible decisions," The Bulgarian seeker spoke, voice controlled.
"Oh, Merlin," I turned away from him, before my eyes met him again. "Viktor Krum you infuriate me so much."
He smirked, before the grin vanished from his face. "I assure you, the sentiment is mutual."
My fists tightened at my side, but my anger was soon clouded by the disappearance of Gregorovitch, and my fists loosened. I blinked, the fury vanishing from my face as I turned around again, that same frantic manner in me from earlier.
"What is it?" Krum asked, the amusement gone from his tone.
"Its Gregorovitch," I swallowed, turning to meet the seeker's ebony irises again. "He's gone."
Viktor Krum blanched, eyes brows narrowing in disbelief as he glanced around. "What do you mean he's gone?"
"He's gone," I repeated softly, a murmur to myself as I stepped away from the floorboards, the furniture and the debris and found myself standing outside in the snow covered street, looking down at the stream of other cottages in this waking village.
"What do you mean he's gone?" The question was asked again, and this time right at my side as the Durmstrang's eyes glared at me. "You told me he would stay here, you said that you cut off his contact with the outside—"
"I know what I said," I snapped, directing him a glare of my own. Then I turned away, guilt creeping up again. "He was supposed to stay here. The only way my magic could've been overruled was if someone was let in by Gregorovitch, but his cottage is hidden by an enchantment so nobody should've approached it in the first place. Gregorovitch couldn't leave by himself too."
"Why would he be wanted anyhow? Everything you did was a mere safety measure," Viktor scoffed. "His head is empty, if someone has him, why would they have anything to do with him now?"
I gasped, as realization hit me. "They want to lure us in."
"What?"
"I made Gregorovitch a clean slate," I breathed, fear dawning on me. "They know there has to be a reason for that. I took the knowledge and I wiped his clean. Somehow, they know that I wouldn't just toss Gregorovitch aside after. They know that I would come back for him."
Viktor brought his hands up and ran them over his head, his eyes falling on the snow covered ground in deep thought.
"I told you they want the information," He spoke after a while, turning to look at me with narrowed eyes. "And you have it, so they are coming after you—" He broke off then, and in a softer voice murmured, "Fuck, so that was what all that was about."
"What?" I asked, my psyche falling into scattered patterns.
"At Ilvermorny," Viktor Krum looked at me. "As soon as I felt the tracker on you indicate you had left the castle, the dementors went crazy. They started rustling inside the castle, they infiltrated the halls and Agilbert Fontaine and the Professors had to all get out their patronuses to round the dementors up."
"Those things insisted on checking every corner of the castle. They wreaked havoc amongst the students. They had spread out inside the entire building like a disease, bent on covering as much area as they could. It was like they sensed something."
I stilled, my heartbeat erratic as my mind rushed.
"An escapee must've been there—," Krum broke off, "Someone must've found you and the dementors sensed the presence inside the castle. I almost couldn't escape myself in the chaos."
My lips parted to speak, but I thought better than to correct him and kept quiet. It couldn't have been any wizard or witch from the prisons that had triggered the dementors, it was my magic. The dementors weren't programmed to detect Heuristics since the form of magic hadn't been done since centuries. Anything that wasn't normal magic, from a wand or blood magic, would've triggered their senses. My heuristics triggered had their senses. But they hadn't smelled it on me until I had performed it. Would they be able to the next time I saw them?
But that didn't matter at present. I was not going back to Ilvermorny without The Elder Wand. Perhaps, once I had the wand, I would have no need to go participate in a tournament I didn't really care for. I was only at Ilvermorny because I knew getting out of Beauxbatons for a while and travelling to a region my great uncle had once dominated with his terror, would help me find the truth about myself. Now, I was so close to asking him myself.
"That doesn't matter right now," I spoke, swallowing.
It was an unexpected hurdle in my plan, or the lack of it, but it would give me time to think and consider my strategy. It would give me time to shrug Viktor Krum off once we had found Gregorovitch. There was one thing I knew for sure, the Bulgarian seeker was not accompanying me to Nurmengard. I would go to every length I had to, to ensure that he didn't. I didn't know what exactly it was, did I just not want him along because I wanted to face Grindelwald myself? Or did I just not want Krum to see that the Grindelwald who he so despised, the murderer of his grandfather, was my great uncle?
"Gregorovitch, is what matters right now. We have to find him."
"They would be expecting us then," Viktor Krum spoke, thrusting his hands into his jeans pockets. He sounded resolved, ready. There was no fear in his voice, except for the determination to do what was necessary.
Then he looked at me, eyes meeting mine as he nodded once. "The question is, where the fuck do we start?"
***
A/N:
I've been listening to the Azkaban soundtrack while writing this <3 anyway, I'm having so much fun with this!
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