CHAPTER SEVENTEEN 

THE MUSIC BEATS THUNDERED IN SYNC with my heart beats as I stepped into the busy party, dark figures spinning all around me. The lights had darkened to a deep unchanging green, and wizards and witches laughed and screamed, in their element as they conversed and tasted freedom in form of crystal glasses clutched tight in their sparkling talons, shimmering with dark liquids. 

Despite having spent years upon years in Azkaban or Nurmengard, these convicts bore the stark element of heavy sophistication. Elegant forms and conversations rolling from in between painted lips like words had never been halted for them before. Perfumed kisses tainted the air, the scent of sharp cologne mixed with that of smoke from burning plants in silver bongs. I only saw green and black, every other color a foreigner in my vision at present.

I looked for and found myself in Flora Fischer's room, where the dwarf witch stood frozen exactly where I had left her. Her eyes were half lidded. Great, she decided to take a nap. Irritated, with a flick of my hand and quickly drawn rune, I unfroze her and she tumbled forwards, her eyes going wide as she hit the floor and scrambled to gather herself. Her face rose to look at me, and her surprise was replaced with resolve once again. 

"Wait till I leave," I spoke, folding my arms across my chest, my eyes glaring into hers. "Then you will tell all the acolytes that I will be leading them. You will make sure of their allegiance to me and me alone." 

"And what of the death eaters? and the others?" She spoke, voice shaking as her breath came in heavy pants, a feeble attempt to get over what she had just been resorted through. 

I kept my face straight. Multiple prisons had been broken out of. The wizarding governments won't rest until they fill their prisons back up, they won't rest until they gathered the convicts back. And I couldn't get rid of the acolytes just yet. I needed to know why Grindelwald had freed them, and not bothered to break himself out. I needed to know what he was up to. He may be responsible for the death eaters' escape as well, but they weren't the important ones—they weren't his followers. 

"They will be the pawns," I let out. "Some of the guests of this party need to go back in their cells to give the governments a rest, and it will be them." 

"But," She started, standing back up on her feet. "You could use them, we could be mightier with numbers—" 

"I don't give a shit about numbers, I'm not trying to take over the world. You forget, Fischer, I'm not my great uncle," I snapped. "You will round up only the acolytes. It is only them I want. Only they will be told about me." 

"Yes," The dwarf witch bowed her head. 

"Then you will go into hiding, until I summon you," My jaw tightened. "All of the acolytes will go into hiding. You will not associate with any death eater or other escapee like this, again." 

The witch met my eyes, determination in her eyes. 

"This is effective starting now," I breathed. "As soon as I leave, you take the acolytes and you get the hell away from here. Stay, and you get shipped back to Nurmengard, because this place will be exposed." 

The witch nodded anxiously, the idea of being shipped back to the place she had escaped from, terrifying her stout frame. 

I neared her. "Fold your sleeve up." 

She peered at me with questioning eyes, but did as I said, slowly raising the sleeve of her dress higher, revealing a fleshy arm. 

I swallowed, my stomach churning as I thought about what I was about to do. Gellert Grindelwald practiced this, it he who played the game of marks etched deep in somebody else's skin. I know, I bore his fruit on my own shoulder. Though he had marked only two in his lifetime, it was something he had resorted to. But never did I imagine myself resorting to the same thing. My reasons didn't match his, neither did my intentions, and that realization was my only solace. 

"I'm sorry," I blinked then, forcing the words out as the witch in front of me looked at me with startled eyes. Perhaps she thought me weak, but it wasn't her fucking thoughts that mattered to me at present, it were my own, thrashing against the cage of my mind. 

Drawing a rune in the air, I willed a mark of my own on her skin. Something to summon her with. It was my first name translated into a rune. It appeared on her flesh, a stark red shaping giving rise to the mark. It wasn't as deep, it wasn't bigger than a finger print, and I could remove it, and it would do, for now. The witch hissed sharply as the formation of the mark came to a stop. 

"I will summon you with this," I exhaled, my eyes fixed on her as she inspected the thing. She didn't look afraid, furious or even bothered. Her expression was that of mild curiosity. 

"I will track you with this," I added. "So don't even think of lying to me or defying me." 

"Y-yes," She muttered, hanging her head. 

With a last look thrown at her, I pivoted and exited the room. First Angus and now her, and then the entirety of the acolytes. How far will I go, forcing people to take my allegiance?

I hadn't forced them, I reminded myself firmly. This is what Grindelwald intended, it's part of the sick game he is playing, and I just need to play along until I uncover it. 

My eyes searched for the Durmstrang I had come with, and I spotted him in the distance, his white teeth on display as he laughed at something a wizard had said. His circle had remained the same, and I recognized the face that had surrounded him before, with addition of some more. So much for discretion. 

I made a beeline towards him, and some of witches and wizards around him met my eyes as I neared, various eyes narrowing and widening in surprise. I pushed past a stout man in a suit and clung to Krum's arm. The latter turned his eyes and found mine, startled expression replacing itself with recognition and shock as he took in my form. He could see me for me, and not the illusion I was under, for I had erased him from being affected. Yet, his surprise was as though I hadn't gone to that trouble at all. Irritation swelled in me, it wouldn't d for him to blow my cover. 

"Brother," I exclaimed, my voice overtly enthusiastic. "I have been looking for you." 

Viktor Krum's dark eyes narrowed as his brows furrowed, his shock still on his face, etched into his stoic features.  

"Come," I pulled at his arm. "I must have a word with you this instant. You've been so rude to neglect our hostess." 

Then I glanced around at everyone else, mimicking my best apologetic smile. "If you'll excuse us, ladies and gentlemen." 

Successful in having dragged him away, my grip around him arm tightened. 

"Someone was having a fine time," I hissed, frustration flooding in my veins. 

"I could say the same for you," He hissed back, eyes fixed ahead as we stopped in the safe corner of the impromptu dance floor where witches were being rapidly spun around by wizards, the music changing to fast and upbeat rhythms.

"You took your time," Krum continued, his features schooled to his usual as he was with me. And for some reason, I felt something akin to disappointment pool in the pit of my stomach. He had been laughing and conversing with convicts, and he couldn't even manage a hint of a smile with me. 

"Where's Gregorovitch?" 

"He's safe," I muttered, swallowing. What was I doing thinking like this? I had more pressing matters to revert my mind to. 

"We're not taking him with us?" He raised a stern brow, and I could see the argument in his eyes. 

"No," I gave him a forced smile, tilting my head. "I'm having someone protect him. He'll be safe, you do not have to worry. The depression of his absence is already getting to you, I can tell." I raised a hand in a gesture to touch his cheek, forcing a frown on my face.  

His expression changed to a startled one at my raised hand, I retracted my hand before it could really touch his face, bringing it to touch my own hair and fall down at my side. 

"What someone?" The Durmstrang narrowed his eyes further, his gaze intent on me. "You have friends in here?" 

Then, before I could answer, he jolted forwards and gripped my arm tightly, pulling me to face him. 

"Lavigne, this fucking house is full of Azkaban escapees," He spat. "The Fischers are fucking convicts. Every wizard and witch in here is out of some fucking prison. These fuckers are the reason the Dementors are going wild in America. And you gave Gregorovitch to someone here for protection?" 

I swallowed hesitantly, how had I not figured he'd find that out? Especially with how he had been getting proud back slaps from the convicts around him. He had clearly been easing them in, extracting things he could get out. But what would the acolytes or death eaters really tell him? They knew nothing about who set them free, they knew nothing about me. 

"No," I tugged my hand, trying to retrieve it but his grip was strong. Anger flashed in his dark eyes, a stark contrast from the way his face had been lit up amidst the laughter I had seen him in just moments ago. 

"That someone is not from around here," I spoke, my voice firm. "I told you, you don't need to worry." 

Fury tore through his features and his jaw twitched. "This again? You won't tell me who the fuck it is and where the fuck you sent Gregorovitch, will you?" 

I kept my face straight. "Let go, Krum." I wrenched my hand away as his grip loosened. Then shooting him a glance, I muttered. "We are leaving."  

"Damn you," He hissed under his breath, but I heard it as clear as day. 

A pitiful smile twisted my lips, little did he know, I was already damned. 

We left without another word, exiting the house and closing the door shut behind us. 

"Apparate us somewhere," I exhaled, suddenly exhausted to turn to my own magic. I had been using too much of it lately, and while it never affected me before, at present I just—I just felt like I needed a break. 

The rune I had embedded in the dwarf witch's skin burned in the back of my eyes. Regret, guilt, churned through me, but I pushed it all back. It had been necessary. 

Viktor Krum apparated us somewhere. I couldn't tell if we were still in Hamburg, Germany. A snow covered park lay ahead with abandoned swings encrusted with a thick layer of snow, nobody was in sight except a few passerbys in the distance. The sky was darkening, and the sun had already set. Lampposts around were faintly burning and the fire flames inside their glass heads flickered and swayed. A wooden bench was just behind us. I walked over to it and sat down, my skin burned with the icy contact with my exposed skin but my mind was burning hotter, and at present, it had all my focus. 

"What are you doing?" Krum's voice came, his hand still clutching his thick wand as he walked over to me.  

"It's fucking freezing and you're—" 

"It's fine," I broke in, sighing. 

"Lavigne," He pressed, grinding his teeth. 

I didn't answer, didn't look up. My head was in my hands as I inhaled and exhaled slowly. I needed to figure this out. I needed to see Grindelwald. I just—If Gregorovitch was still sane, he could've guided me some more. I just needed someone to listen, to just tell me what the hell I am supposed to do now. It wasn't that I didn't know, I knew what I wanted and what I had to do, it was just the how part that was stabbing at my mind. 

How was I supposed to get to Grindelwald? Nurmengard remained a mystery to me. How was I supposed to infiltrate it and get back out? How was I supposed to even face my great uncle, the man I hadn't seen for eight years? And what then? If he doesn't tell me where The Elder Wand is, or if I can't get it, then what? 

Then someone else gets to it first, a small voice inside me spoke. Then you don't get to use it fix yourself and your wand, then someone else uses it for—for whatever Gregorovitch feared they would use it for. 

I had acolytes in my control, but there was still someone else who was looking for The Elder Wand. The vicious wizard who had blown Gregorovitch's house apart and forced me to erase the old man's memory. A snake like voice I hadn't heard or sensed at the Fischer party. Whoever this wizard was, he was still hot on the trail. 

"Take my coat," Viktor Krum's voice tore through my senses. He raised his dark coat towards me, and I hadn't even noticed he had been taking it off. 

"It's fine," I swallowed. "I don't need it." 

"Take it, Lavigne," His voice was firmer now, persistent. 

"I don't need it," I repeated, feeling the ice numb my skin as it seeped heavily into my bones. Flora Fischer's dress was not for here and now. 

"Wear it," His voice was gruff now, heavy and intimidating. 

"I said it's fine!" I cried, my nerves shaking. "Can you just stop your antics for a moment? I don't need your coat." 

"Antics?" He blurted, fury furrowed his brows and narrowing his eyes. "I could strangle you right now. You're the reason we're here! You fucked Gregorovitch up, got him taken by some fucking convicts who are looking for something you have information on. Then you sent the wandmaker with Merlin knows who and now you're here wearing that—that—" 

I looked at him, my anger dissipating at his hesitation.

"It's a dress," I offered slowly, slightly confused as his eyes took in my form, his facial muscles twitching as he caught himself staring and averted his gaze abruptly. 

"I know what it is," He snapped, a redness creeping up his neck. "My question is why you are wearing it. You were supposed to get Gregorovitch and get out." 

I shrugged slowly, my eyes falling to a white flower growing from in between a crust of snow on the ground. 

"Maybe I just wanted to fit in." 

"Damn it," He hissed, and then whipping out his wand, he muttered a spell in front of us and an adequate bonfire made it self with wood logs coming together and a fire quickly starting. Comforting heat radiated towards my form as I felt my muscles unclench with the welcome warmth seeping into my skin. 

Cautiously, I raised my palms to face the fire, rubbing them together as Krum scoffed, shaking his head at me. I kept my eyes away from him, the yellow orange fire in front of me dancing in my vision, in my silver grey eyes. 

A moment passed, and he walked over and sat beside me on the bench, putting his coat to the side as the warmth he had created, conveniently drove the chill away. He kept a respectable distance between us, and it made me want to laugh suddenly. 

"Did you give Gregorovitch back his memory?" The Durmstrang asked after a pause, head turning as his eyes looked at me. I felt his gaze at the side of my face, but I kept my own gaze fixed ahead. 

"No." 

He sighed. 

"I can't, right now." I swallowed, rubbing my right arm. "Not until—" 

"—you have what you're looking for," He finished for me, his tone etched with spite. 

I didn't respond, just offered him a slow nod. 

"You know what your problem is?" Krum spoke suddenly, amusement in his tone, and I turned to look towards him. "You are so fucking selfish." 

I stilled. Selfish? An insult I wasn't expecting out of the loads of others he could give. Honestly, it was weak, and I doubt he intended for it to hurt as less as it did. 

"You think this is all about you," He continued, eyes fixed on the flames. "Just because Gregorovitch confided in you for something, you want to take it to your head. You want to shut everyone out, because you've probably never had something to yourself before." 

I managed a scoff. "What are you even saying? If this is how you read people, Krum, it is no wonder you have friends like you do." 

All about me. Was this not all about me? It was—at least more than half of it. If he knew what it truly was, he would know that it was in fact all about me. 

He snickered. "Don't change the subject." 

I turned my eyes away as he glared at me. The fire light washing my face in orange and yellows. 

"I'm sorry, alright?" I started. He was right in a way. He was closer to Gregorovitch than I could ever be. His family had loved the old wandmaker, and my family—my great uncle? He had forced him to make a wand and killed a child in front of him. 

Gregorovitch had refused to help me outright when I had first approached him. He hated my wand, and even my presence had made him irate. And he had called Krum and asked him to help me. That meant something didn't it? Could he have suspected my struggle? A breakdown that he could sense was coming? A shoulder that he thought I would need? But damn it, what would an old wandmaker know of me? What in ten hells would he know of everything I went through everyday, for him to so blatantly assume my future? 

"I just—I can't risk people with this," I began, looking at him. He was looking at me intently. "What do you want to do? Go into hiding somewhere like I've sent Gregorovitch? They'll be after you too." 

"Don't think I can't protect myself, Lavigne," He hissed. "Don't you fucking assume that." 

I scoffed. "Like you just assumed I'm selfish?" 

"Prove it to me then," He snapped, "Don't keep shit to yourself and prove to me that you're not selfish." 

I suppressed an urge to roll my eyes at his feeble attempt. 

"Lavigne, listen to me," His voice softened and I stilled, peering at him. His features were etched in sincerity now, and it was startling. His anthracite eyes burned into mine, the fire dancing in his irises.

"I can protect you if you let me." 

"I don't need your protection." 

He shut his eyes tight at my response, and a muscle in his jaw twitched. Then suddenly, he took hold of my elbow, yanked me close and pointed his wand to my head. Before I could think a coherent thought, he muttered a spell and a flare of blue sparked from his wand and into my head. My vision went dark. 

My consciousness was still there. I could feel myself breathe, but I was inside me, throbbing in the dark abyss of my soul. He had pushed my consciousness away, but it hadn't retreated entirely. The Durmstrang, that fool, he didn't realize that he couldn't do that to me. The heuristics in my blood refused to submit my will to that of a wand. 

Then, I felt the intrusion in my mind, like a billion needles thrusting into the soft flesh of my brain. Realization dawned on me like a lightening bolt. He was sifting through my head. He was searching me, trying to find what Gregorovitch told me. Legilimency. Anger and fury blinded me  and blood pounded in my darkened senses. 

Quickly, I put up the barriers in my mind that I had learned and practiced a thousand times. The Bulgarian seeker had clearly underestimated my occlumency. He prodded still, and it felt like a wrecking ball was slamming against the walls I had set up. The pain was excruciating and I screamed, but I was trapped in myself and I had no access to the outside world, no access to my limbs or my mouth. 

He thought making me lose consciousness was the way to prevent the agony of it, and it was, gosh, it was. But he was fucking clueless, and he didn't know shit about my magic to even assume such a thing. My consciousness would always remain tied to me, he could only catch me off guard and push it inside, but he couldn't take it away, no one could, even briefly. 

But never had I ever been searched like this, or sifted through at any point in my life. The agony was stark, and I was writhing in the intensity of it. The worst part was that I hadn't seen it coming. 

The Durmstrang prodded harder, and my strength wavered as a single wall shattered through. I could feel everything seeping out like hot liquid, burning the floors of my brain. My knowledge was lava and it was burning the exit. I willed a replacement wall, and it overcame the flow, tightly fixating itself into place. 

But the damage was done. That single wall's destruction had done what my assailant had wanted. The needles in my brain faded away, and I felt no intrusion. My mind was mine again, no army trying to tear it's walls down. The pain receded, though everything throbbed with exertion. 

I gathered my consciousness and willed it to a single point and tethered it to my reality. It was like dragging my body out of the depths of an ocean. My eyes darted open and I felt the hard bench I was lying on. There was a coat covering my form like a makeshift blanket, it was his coat. I sat up and gasped, breathing heavily as my body throbbed with pain and my heart thrashed against my ribcage. My eyes found Viktor Krum's form. He was standing at a distance, his buff arms folded across his chest, eyes fixed intently on me. 

"Putain de bâtard," I gasped, my voice a whisper as I slowly regained control over it. "You vile, foul, loathsome bastard." 

He blinked as his Adam's apple bobbed slightly. His gaze flitted, guilt marring his eyes. 

"How dare you!" I screamed, throwing his coat off my body and getting up. 

My legs felt weak, but I gathered my resolve and righted myself, charging towards him. He didn't move, stood erect where he was, his irises damp in resolve as he kept them pinned on.

I halted a step away from him, fury flooding my body like a bloodthirsty snake wrapping itself around me tighter by the second. A vision blinded me, Viktor Krum stood where he was, but with dark holes for eyes. Blood streamed from the two holes, streaming down his face as he gaped at me. A silver hilted knife was jabbed clean through his throat, and blood spurted out of that wound as well, and I felt the wetness of it on my face—droplets making their way towards me.

The vision dissipated, and I gasped as it went, blood slowly disappearing from my periphery. The darkening vision gave me my reality back.

"Dominique!" The loud shout rang through my senses, it was Viktor Krum, his yell speeding the process.

My eyes focused to find that I was on top of the Bulgarian seeker, both of us having rolled to the ground. He had clasped my right hand, in which I grasped a silver hilted knife, the stark one from my vision. I had it's sharp edge facing his neck, that very singular point the hilt had been sticking out of, in my vision.

I gasped, my fingers going loose as the knife dropped to the side of his head on the snow. He was looking up at me, his irises swimming with confusion, shock and.. accusation. It tore through me, made me feel like I was pinned to a canvas—like I was cornered with the air depleting around me, choking on my suffocation.

I got off of him, dropping my face into my hands.

"What were you—," He panted, his breath coming short as he tripped anxiously over his words. "You tried to kill me! What the fuck?"

Tears tore through my eyes as sobs racked my frame. Since when had I started acting on these horrifying visions? They had always been separate from my reality, I had always held them separate. Why then had I let this one consume me like this? I had gone completely blind, my mind hadn't been my own.

"Dominique—," His voice softened as he noticed my sobs.

"Don't," I seethed, furious at myself for breaking down in front of him.

I raised my head and bore my eyes into his, hatred filled my form. He got up on his feet, leaving me on my numb knees in the thick snow. My vision had stemmed from his betrayal. My visions constituted of my anger translating itself. If this was something Grindelwald had done to me, then I hated everyone who triggered it, because they made me the victim, again and again and again. 

"What do you know?" I managed, viciously wiping away my tears.

"That you're seeking The Elder Wand," He spoke, his voice low, and I shut my eyes tight. "Gregorovitch told you to acquire it. He told you that Grindelwald has it because he stole it from him years ago. And that fucker is still alive instead of having rotted away in Nurmengard. You didn't intend to come here, you were headed to the Austrian Alps, to Nurmengard, to him. You want that wand, and not only to keep it away from the wrong hands."

I peered at him, waiting for more. But he shrugged then, pushing his hands into his pockets. He was still burning with questions, but his guilt was preventing him from voicing them. 

"That's all."

I shut my eyes again. He wouldn't be so calm if he knew what Grindelwald was to me. He wouldn't be so resolved if he knew I had acolytes under my control, hiding themselves on my orders. He wouldn't look at me like that if he knew I had enslaved one of the les dorés.

That was all he knew, and suddenly, I was glad for it. If he had risked his own life by acquiring the little knowledge of that wand, then that was fine with me. After what Viktor Krum did to me, he could burn at the hands of the vicious wizard seeking that wand. He could be blown apart, his insides on the outside, for all I care.

"Dominique," He started again, his voice heavy. I didn't realize he had progressed from calling me by my fake last name. I didn't realize I had become just Dominique to him. 

"I'm so sorry," He swallowed. "I needed to know so that I can protect you. It was what Gregorovitch wanted." 

I looked up to find him looking at me, a desperate and helpless look in his eyes as he waited for a sign from me. Tears had dried on my face now, and my mind had cleared. I got up on my feet. 

"How chivalrous of you," I forced a smile on my face. "But tell me, Viktor Krum, now who will protect you from me?" 

With a quick rune drawn with my left hand, I thrust my right in his direction, eyes burning with the anger I felt. I saw his eyes widen as the force hit his chest, purple streaked with dark green crashing against his torso as he was thrown away. His body ricocheted and spun in the air in a single spot, limbs twisting and turning as he yelled in the agony of it. Then he was slammed against a small building in the distance, and the crumbling brick walls of that mediocre establishment collapsed on top of him, burying his form in rubble, wood and dark snow.

I let out a shaky breath. Then with a new rune ready in the air, I flicked my wrist and left the place. 

***

A/N:
A longer chapter today. I got stuck a couple of times as I wrote this, but I finished it and found the direction I wanted it to go, so I guess it's fine hehe. Anyways, not Vik and Dom going from partial enemies to partial friends and then to complete enemies lol.