CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR

"I GOT THIS," I WHISPERED TO myself, oblivious to anyone else's ears. The snow was thick underneath my feet, and I wondered how deep below the ground really was. Maybe I'll always be saying those words to myself, even with my throat thick and tears choked up in my eyes—not to fall at certain moments but just to build up inside. 

My feet crunched over the blanket of snow, the sky above was a deep startling black and only a mere few stars twinkled like glitter in the sky. The moon, seemingly full, had taken cover behind a cluster of clouds, illuminating them from behind as though it was too afraid to come out—as though it was too devoid of the confidence in the plan that I had woven below her.

We had been walking for hours. Had it been three, or five, I couldn't tell as we picked our way through the dark forest on the outskirts of the alps. It was dangerous to apparate or translocate anywhere close to Nurmengard or the Austrian alps. Aurelius Dumbledore had cautioned me against it, and I had obliged to some extent, having had no other choice while refusing to submit entirely to his will.

They followed behind, the companions—friends that had forced themselves along. Bridgette's breaths came in soft pants as she tagged behind, too hesitant to catch up right beside me—too avoidant of the awkward air between us. I suppressed a scoff. It had always been like that with us. We'd disagree—albeit slightly sometimes—and then we'd never know how to talk to each other again until some time passed and both of us forgot the discourse that took root in the first place. Though, it was always she who was the forgetful one. I never forgot.

Zubair Dimitrova, kept his own pace equal to that of my best friend's. His butter-like voice lowered to discreet words that he exchanged with her. None of which I could decipher, or cared to, until one of his statements made her laugh slightly. The sound was like the chime of bells against this harsh loud wind and the crunch of snow underneath all our feet.

Viktor Krum's strides were large, determined, as he caught up with me despite the pace I tried to keep to disable him from doing so. He didn't speak, though I felt his eyes dart to the side of my face expectantly, perhaps to catch my eye to start a conversation. I felt less inclined. I did not want to talk to any of them.

It was a strange feeling, a battle of emotions inside me, and they all felt trapped with no way out. Which one of these people were here just for me? None of them were. Who had come along merely to offer me support before I faced my great uncle? None of them were. They thought they had me down, knowing of my powers as they did. But Merlin, they didn't know anything about me.

I looked up ahead, and saw the Austrian alps—their dark daunting heights coated in snow at their peaks against the backdrop of the night sky peering through the trees of the forest. The fortress of Nurmengard was located at the edge of one of those peaks. A peak that I could not see from here—a peak that was possibly hidden in the center of the tall ones that towered in the distance, and not just by the mere art of the manipulation of nature, but by magic as well.

I swallowed an empty lump in my throat, suddenly realizing how fully dependent I was on Aurelius Dumbledore to get me to and into the castle. I had had no choice but to trust in the former Credence Barebone—a man that my great uncle trusted with his life. The same man who would possibly give his own life to see the death of my great uncle, the same man who owed nothing to me and would probably benefit from exposing my plans and me than he could from hiding them.

If Aurelius Dumbledore pushed me, right here and right now, I know I'd fall hard. But I'd get back up, and though it would set me back, I'd get back up and stand taller.

"You think you'll do this without talking to me?" Viktor Krum's baritone interrupted my stream of thoughts, and my eyes found his briefly before I set them on the path ahead.

The icy winds blew stronger around us, pushing up against thick dark frozen trees and dodging us. He had cast a charm over the four of us, something that would keep us relatively warm and untouched by the wrath of the cold of our surroundings. Of his own accord, he had used his wand, an expression on his face that had meant business even if he had to challenge the ground itself.

"Yes," I spoke, my voice barely above a whisper and expressionless.

Krum scoffed, frustration evident through his forced nonchalance.

"Whatever is brewing in that head of yours, Dominique," He let out and I felt a sudden chill at the sound of my name on his tongue. I had heard it before, so why then would it impact me again?

"Just remember this, The Elder Wand goes to the fucking authorities. It does not belong to you."

My hands fisted at my sides as I glared ahead, anger pulsating in my veins.

"It does not belong to them either."

"I don't care," He broke in, dodging the truth in my words. "They'll keep it safe—away from the hands of whoever that is after it."

Voldemort, I thought silently. Except, Krum had no reason to believe that, but I did. And me? Didn't I too fall into the category of the whoever that are after the wand? Did not my want stem from selfishness too, like Voldemort? I didn't want the wand to rescue the world from the dark wizard, that was just a bonus that could be availed. I needed the wand for myself, to cure myself of the threads that tied me to my great uncle and to fix my godforsaken wand. Still, Voldemort and I were not the same.

"Didn't Gregorovitch want that too?" The Bulgarian seeker probed when I hadn't spoken. His tone had changed from demanding to that of consideration—as though he wanted to be convinced, as though he had made room inside him for consideration.

"When he asked you to set out after the wand? He wanted to protect it from the wrong hands. If he was here right now, he'd agree that it should go to the wizarding authorities."

"But he's not here right now," I let out, frustration coating my words. "He won't be anywhere I don't want him to be. So don't twist the words he spoke to only me."

The Durmstrang paused his words, his eyes observing me from the side as I forced myself to not look at him, kicking aside a heavy stone as it toppled into my path in the snow, my steps heavy and irritated.

"I was right," He spoke after a while, more to himself than to me before raising his voice slightly. "You want the wand for yourself, don't you?"

I didn't answer, kept my eyes trained ahead as we hiked through the thick snowy forest, the tall mountains of the Austrian alps still the size of my palm on the dark horizon from this distance.

He had come to this conclusion before, in his anger. But it had been an accusation then, and I could sense the accusation now turn into belief.

"What do you want it for?" The words were hard now, his usual stoicism returning to his conversation.

I didn't answer. I wanted to shout the truth in his face, because I was sick and tired of trying to hide it, not just from him, but from everyone. It was exhausting, emotionally draining, and perhaps the fear on his face when he found out about my great uncle would be worth it. But it was a slight moment of satisfaction that I couldn't risk everything for.

Then suddenly, Krum's thick fingers wrapped themselves around my elbow and I was yanked to a stop as he forced me to face him. His face was harder still, features pinned into a warning stance as his anthracite eyes glared into mine—an attempt to extricate everything from them that I wouldn't say.

Zubair Dimitrova and Bridgette came to a halt behind us, their low conversation ceasing in surprise.

"What do you need it for Dominique?" The Bulgarian seeker let out through gritted teeth.

I saw fire then, as it blinded my vision, burning the inside of my head. An image of the same fire igniting underneath Krum's flesh, burning him from the inside filled my senses. He let go of me in shock and stumbled back. The fire was merciful to me, as in contrast, it charred the Durmstrang's organs. His face contorted into that of extreme agony, blood seeping out from his open jaw and melting irises. I felt the satisfaction course into my veins, before terror engulfed me as Viktor Krum fell to his feet on the snow like a marionette with its strings severed. Terror and.. regret?

I looked at Bridgette and Dimitrova, their faces were morphed into terror that resembled the one I felt beating inside me like a pulsating tumor. Their eyes turned to me, and I saw accusation and fear in them. Bridgette's eyes hurt the most, swirling with fear and hatred directed at me, I felt as though the fire had not in fact been merciful to me at all. For this was worse, this feeling was worse.

I looked at my hands, and saw my palms, the glow in one of them was just dying down and I saw no lines on the skin. Then it hit me. The falseness of the scene hit me. This was just a vision. A vision borne of my anger with threads tied to Grindelwald. This was not real unless I made it real like he wanted. This was not real unless I gave into it like he wanted.

I shut my eyes tight, drowning out Krum's shouts. I forced myself to stay tethered to the ground, feeling my purpose and the cold on my skin despite the Durmstrang's allotted charm. Then, his yells of agony diffused, and the smell of flesh burning dissipated.

"Dominique?" My name floated into my senses, distant, but getting louder. "Dominique?"

I opened my eyes, and found myself standing face to face with Krum again. His ebony irises were trained onto me, marred with concern. He was unhurt, not the bleeding and burning carcass I had just been watching him become. I glanced at Bridgette as she stood awkwardly hugging her elbow, eyes on me reflecting concern. Relief flooded through my chest and my knees shook with the force of it.

I had done it. I hadn't tried to act on my visions. I hadn't let them control me like I did the last time when I had turned a knife on Krum. I was no longer powerless in face of them. I could counter them, I could keep my ground against them. And that knowledge alone liberated me in ways I thought impossible.

"Are you alright?" Krum spoke up, his hand holding me at my elbow, and suddenly I was glad for him holding me in place. "You just—blacked out standing."

"I'm fine," I managed, the relief evident in my tone as I turned away from him, taking my elbow from his grasp as I reeled in my composure.

"Did you even eat? Before setting out?" He probed, catching up as I began on our path again. "I didn't see you at supper in the Grand Hall."

I didn't respond. I hadn't eaten anything, I hadn't had the stomach to, but Krum didn't need to know that.

"Dominique," The Durmstrang let out, "I'm fucking asking you something."

"What's it to you?" I snapped, "Why can't you just mind your own business?"

"Because I don't fucking trust you enough to mind yours," He glowered, eyes furious.

"Your trust is not wanted," My voice lowered as I turned my head away from him, keeping a deft pace ahead.

"I will find out why you need The Elder Wand, Dominique," He spoke the words, disregarding my previous statement, disguising the effect it had on him. "Without legilimency. And when I vow something, I do it. And you will find that out soon enough."

"I don't want to find out anything about you, Krum."

His jaw twitched, and his lips parted, but I didn't hear the words he spoke. A sharp stab erupted in my deathly hallows mark on my shoulder. That same agonizing feeling of a knife being plunged deep inside my flesh until it touched bone. But this time, it felt as though the knife would shatter across the bone too. I cried out, a hand immediately reaching out to grasp my marked shoulder as I fell to my knees, eyes screwed shut in tortured agony.

Grindelwald. He knew I was near. There could be no other reason for this intensity—no other reason for this immense pain.

"He loved you, you know. He held such affection for you that it made him mortal in my eyes."

"He searched high and low for someone who could teach you. Grindelwald would be so proud when he finds out."

"That essence—it's all his likeness. You are his great niece."

None of it made sense. When you've known abandonment and you're drowning in pain, the assurance of love made no sense—it was deception cast by a wizard's sleek wand, intended to blind you and nothing else.

I dug my fingers into my mark from over my clothes in vain, aching desperately for the pain to stop as tears streamed down my face. In my agony, I was keenly aware of hands trying to hold me, hold my wrist and pull at it, fumbling hands trying in vain to decipher the matter at hand. It took me a while to realize that the hands on me were only two, belonging to Viktor Krum as the Durmstrang shouted orders for Dimitrova and Bridgette to stay back.

I heard him loud and clear against my ear drums as he yelled out my name. I saw him in blurred flashes as I tried to force my eyes open against the deepening pain of my mark. But it was no use, the agony wouldn't stop. Grindelwald wouldn't stop. My vision darkened in response to his wrath, and so did my senses.

The last thoughts I wondered before losing my senses was why he would call me like this? If he had something to say, why would fury cover it such so? What in eight years had I done to deserve his sudden wrath? Or was this just Gellert Grindelwald's way of showing his love?

My back was on something hard when my senses returned to me. They came in bouts, first I felt touch. The hardness of the ground, a faint coldness seeping in through my clothes directed from the ground. I felt my hands resting on my stomach. I felt a warmth on my face. Then came the rest of my senses. I smelled the warm fire near me, I saw its glow from behind my eyelids, I heard its crackle and distinct voices speaking in the background.

Then my eyes fluttered open. They had made a fire, short logs of wood sat burning at a distance. Dimitrova was hunched over it, adding fuel to it as he fed it more pieces of wood. His bronze face illuminated by the yellow light. Bridgette sat at a distance behind him, rubbing her elbows over her warm coat, her eyes fixed on the flames of the fire, a covering spread out underneath her similar to the one underneath me.

Viktor Krum was nowhere in sight.

"We've stopped?" I let out, quickly pushing myself up as Bridgette and Dimitrova turned to face me, expressions contorted into surprise and relief.

"Dominique! Mon dieu, j'étais tellement inquiète. Est-ce que tu vas bien?" Bridgette cried out, her voice cracking as she forgot her place by the fire and leapt towards me, eyes glassy.

The genuine concern in her voice and in her eyes was a balm to my soul, but it was quick to evaporate knowing that it could do nothing for me beyond this moment.

"I'm alright," I swallowed, my mark no longer carrying even the memory of the torture it had given me. "Je me sens bien. Ne t'inquiète pas."

"You were clawing at yourself," She grasped at words, tears now beginning to form in her eyes. "You were in so much pain and it was so sudden. Je ne t'ai jamais vu comme ça, and I didn't know what to do."

"It was nothing," I tried again, though what I had felt was far from nothing. "Just something with heuristics—"

"It wasn't that," Zubair Dimitrova addressed me for the first time since we had all set out. His expression was mildly inquisitive as he thrust his hands into his pockets and his dark eyes observed me.

"Heuristics wizards and witches don't cause pain to themselves, unless it's willingly."

"So either you're trying to kill yourself," He continued plainly, "Or you think we're all stupid."

I steeled myself, fury emanating inside me. "I'll burn you where you stand before I open up more to you than I have already been forced to."

"Dimitrova," Bridgette snapped, her voice shrill in her frustration. "Leave us the fuck alone."

The Durmstrang blinked at her outburst, made in clear English so as to be understandable for him. His eyes narrowed slightly as an unreadable expression covered his face. His dark lips twitched, then he turned his face and stalked away.

Bridgette turned her face to me, her eyes reflecting regret. It startled me. Had she come to care for him?

"Tell me, Dominique," The regret wiped itself off her eyes. "What happened?"

I broke eye contact, focusing on the dark trees in the distance.

"S'il te plaît, Dominique!" She cried out, a fresh tear dropping on her cheek. "No more lies. Please."

I shut my eyes tight. "Where's Viktor?"

"He—He needed a moment to himself, I think," She touched the back of her neck, cheeks glistening with tears. "After you fainted, he just snapped. Then he left. Said he needed to find us something to eat. Our magic won't work here. Zubair says it's got something to do with protection for Nurmengard, but Krum doesn't seem to care about that."

"How long have I been out?"

"Fifteen minutes? It wasn't very long. Thank goodness."

I held back a sigh of relief. We were only fifteen minutes back. A small setback. Aurelius would realize, he would wait. The acolytes would hold their positions for the distraction.

"Dominique, you need to tell me what happened," Bridgette pressed again, her eyes pleading as she looked at me. "If you want me to beg, I will beg. But please, I need to know."

"Why?" I cried out. "Why when you've never asked before?"

She blinked, surprise taking over her features.

"I've been heuristic all my life, mon ami," My eyes bore into hers, tears mirroring in my own silver ones. "I've clawed at myself for as long as I can remember. But you've never asked because you never saw any of it before, because you never looked close enough to find any of it before. And now that you see it, now that I can't control some of it, you want to know what happened?"

Bridgette shut her eyes tight, before slowly opening them again. Her whites were streaked with red, and her soft brown irises reflected the flames of the fire burning near us.

"I'm sorry," She spoke softly, her voice broken, distraught. It took me back, had I ever seen her like this before?

"Je suis désolé. I've never been a good best friend to you have I? I've been obsessed with myself—obsessed with our friendship without realizing that it goes both ways. You've never relied on me truly, and I realize that now. I've never really been the friend you needed and I want to remedy that so much. Please, give me a chance to remedy that. Seeing you in so much pain—Dominique that was terrifying. I can't lose you, please. You're all I have at Beauxbatons, at Ilvermorny. You're all I have anywhere."

I didn't say anything as tears streaked down my face. What was happening? Was this the time or place for any of this? Was this what I needed before facing my great uncle?

"With Raphael, Louis, and Elias around us these last few years I've been so oblivious. Instead of our friendship deepening—instead of me truly understanding you, I've let you drift further and further away from me. I didn't realize that it was something that would hurt so much, I thought you'd always be around. I thought that it would always be us and Beauxbatons. But mon dieu, I've been so wrong. Please let me correct this. Please."

She raised a hand then, and it was trembling. Her fair skin illuminated by the glittering fire light in our midst as she touched my cheek and held it. I felt it then, this connection to her I've always had. That Lien du sauveur. But it was more than just that. She was my best friend. If soulmates existed, she was that to me. Her soul was the complete opposite of mine, yet they always circled in each other's vicinity. And there was something about that, a connection of friendship that was underestimated and overlooked to the point that when it glowed, it really showed itself.

Her thumb touched my small moon shaped birthmark under my right eye. "How did you get this?"

"It's a birthmark."

She smiled softly. "I know, it's so pretty, I figured. But I'm sorry I never asked."

We stayed silent for a while. Her giving me the time I needed, and me thinking of the right way—if one even existed—to say what I wanted to say.

"It was my mark, at my shoulder," I spoke, my tongue no longer having the energy to hold back anything from her. "I'm marked by my great uncle. He is calling me, I don't know why or for what, but this is his way of calling. He uses my wand, and he uses his mark on me."

Bridgette blanched, lips trembling as her eyes widened in sudden realization.

"Your great uncle is Gellert Grindelwald."

Her voice was soft, a fearful whisper that she was afraid the trees around us would over hear.

"He is."

Bridgette stayed quiet for a while, breaking eye contact as she focused on the fire. I could tell that she was taking it all in, these mere small sentences that I had spoken—ones that were my whole life now.

"Grindelwald knows where the Elder Wand is," She spoke again, slowly. "Krum suspects you want it for yourself. Why do you need it? Is it to get rid of—"

"My great uncle?" I asked, "No. My mark? My uncomplying wand? These godforsaken threads that bind me to his presence like a fucking doll? Yes."

Bridgette exhaled, her eyes still wider than before. I waited for more questions, but instead, she pulled herself straight where she had dropped to her knees beside me, and met my eyes.

"Alright," She asserted, taking my hands into hers, a determined look in her eyes. "We're getting you that wand. I'm going to help you make sure Krum doesn't get his hands on it."

"He intends to give it to the authorities, and I don't intend to keep it, Bridgette. I know how powerful it is. Gregorovitch knew I wouldn't keep it. I just—"

"You want to use your great uncle's wand to help yourself first," She interjected, a fierce look in her eyes. "Dominique, I understand that more than you think I do. You've suffered long enough."

"It's not Grindelwald's wand. It belongs to Gregorovitch."

"No it doesn't," Her brows furrowed. "Dominique. The Elder Wand needs to be won over like the spoils of victory. Grindelwald would have to have defeated Gregorovitch in a duel and won to have acquired the use of that wand."

"Gregorovitch said he stole it," I murmured, the cogs turning in my head. "Could the wandmaker have been that prideful that he wouldn't admit to being overpowered by a dark wizard?"

Bridgette shrugged, raising her brows.

Suddenly, a loud wolf howl sounded in the distance, and I stilled. The plan. The acolytes must be waiting for my signal somewhere at the start of the alps, Aurelius must be wondering where I was. If I didn't show up, he would think something had gone wrong and he would show up here.

"Bridgette, porte-moi de l'attention," I turned to face her. "I have acolytes waiting on our path to the alps. I placed them there as a distraction, so that I could lose you guys and head to Nurmengard on my own. They are not ordered to hurt you, just—keep you from following me so that I can get to Grindelwald and the Elder Wand first. Now that you know, I can get you back to Ilvermorny so that you don't have to—"

"No, Dominique," Bridgette shook her head anxiously, in fervent denial. "No, I'm not letting you go alone. Not after this, not after now."

"Please, Bridgette," An ache pressed itself in my eyes. "This is for your own safety. You don't know what my great uncle is like. He might not tell me where the wand is, he might try to attack me. I can't protect myself and you at the same time."

"I'll protect myself," She let out, "I can't go back without you. I won't."

I looked at her, her stubbornness consoling my agitated heart. I could leave her with Aurelius when we got to Nurmengard. He wouldn't dare hurt her.

"Alright," I swallowed, looking around. Dimitrova and Krum were nowhere in sight. Perhaps the former had ventured out after the latter. "Then we go now. The acolytes will make sure Krum and Dimitrova can't get anywhere past the alps."

Bridgette nodded. "Hopefully we'll get to the wand before anyone else."

With a small nod, I drew the transportation rune with my right hand, half fearing that it wouldn't work. But it did. The rune glowed in the air between us, and I made my intention. Aurelius Dumbledore would be waiting at the spot where the alps met the forest like we agreed. Except, he wouldn't just be meeting me now.

The forest around us dissipated like a woolen jumper being pulled apart by a single long thread, and we went hurtling through darkness. I shut my eyes tight, feeling stronger this time around. Then when the ground found my feet, I opened my eyes and they met the former Credence Barebone's dark ones.

He stood there, three feet away from me with the snowy alps towering behind his dark and lean form. His eyes softened, and so did his stance, at the sight of me. But then realization struck him and I watched his brows slowly raise as he turned his eyes from me to Bridgette, who stood right beside me, her own soft brown eyes inspecting the new addition defensively.

"This is Bridgette," I cleared my throat. "She knows. She's coming with us to Nurmengard."

I turned to Bridgette. "Meet Aurelius Dumbledore, our tour guide for breaking into and out of Grindelwald's prison fortress."

"A Dumbledore?" She raised a brow at me.

I nodded. "Albus Dumbledore's nephew."

"I would say it is nice to meet you, under normal circumstances," Bridgette started, tilting her head slightly at Aurelius. "But these aren't normal circumstances, and you will get such a statement from me after Dominique gets the wand and we're safely away from Nurmengard."

"I don't require such frivolities," The wizard spoke, clearly amused.

Then he turned his eyes to look at me. "It is dangerous to bring her along, she might risk us."

"Excuse-moi, I'm right here," Bridgette interceded, her annoyance clear on her face. "I might just risk you for the satisfaction of it."

I bit back a smile. It was hard to imagine us just moments ago, crying as we confessed to each other things nobody else would understand—confessions nobody else could replicate. It was strange how sometimes things that seemed so surface level ran so deep.

Aurelius Dumbledore didn't speak after that, clearly agitated by her presence. Mutely, he gestured us towards the path he had chosen. A path he had claimed would get us across the alps and to the fortress in a matter of a day instead of the multiple that it took to cross these mountains. I had suggested using my magic, and now that I knew that heuristics could still be performed near Nurmengard despite their magic preventing charms, the suggestion still danced on the tip of my tongue and took every ounce of my will to not repeat again.

The former Barebone had claimed that some of the Nurmengard prisoners might be able to detect the heuristics—that Grindelwald might be able to detect the scent of it. Letting my presence known before I arrived was a fool's act, and I didn't want to prove him right.

Bridgette walked beside me as Aurelius stalked ahead, his pale hands wrapped around his back, unmoving, as though he was merely traipsing around in a wizarding government office trying to locate files he had misplaced.

"He's an odd creature," Bridgette spoke to me, switching to French to keep our conversation private.

Except, she wasn't aware that the former Barebone had French as well as he had his English. Grindelwald never dealt with his acolytes in English, it was always French.

"An odd creature who knows French as well as we do, er könnte hören." I spoke in German, giving her a sly smile. As far as I knew, Aurelius Dumbledore didn't seem to have any German.

"What care do I have if he hears?" Bridgette threw her shoulders back and keeping to French, as she looped her arm around mine. "I owe him nothing."

"I take it he is an acolyte?" She asked after a pause. "He must be one if he knows the ins and outs of Nurmengard."

The pinned pale hands at the Dumbledore's back twitched, and I realized his ears were carefully trained on our conversation.

"He is a former acolyte," I answered her question, keenly aware that the wizard in question was listening. "He used to be Grindelwald's head acolyte before the dark wizard was defeated and thrown in Nurmengard by Albus Dumbledore."

"But then why is he helping?" Bridgette prodded. "What does he get from all this?"

"I get the surety that the wizarding world is safe," The wizard blurted out. He turned sharply to face us, his firm muscular face strangely attractive in the dim light of the moon that fell on us.

"I don't want anything else," He continued, eyes going from Bridgette to me. "I want you to know that, Dominique Marie Grindelwald. I do not want anything except to make sure that you don't do anything to set the wizarding world ablaze."

I furrowed my brows, trying to hide the irritation ebbing at me. "Two dark wizards, and you believe I will be the one to tip the scales. Should I take that as a compliment?"

"Take it as what you will," He articulated, his eyes bearing into mine.

"Two dark wizards?" Bridgette repeated, anxiety in her voice. "So it's true, about Voldemort?"

"It is," The former Barebone shot her a brief glance before turning to me. "I just want to stop you from making grave mistakes. I can help you, Dominique."

"You want to control her," Bridgette spoke up and I saw her pin Aurelius down with her pointed glare. "You want what she has."

The wizard scoffed. "That's nonsense. I want to keep her away from the wizards who do want what she has."

"She doesn't need your protection," Bridgette argued.

"I know she doesn't," Aurelius' look softened suddenly, his voice lowering. "I'm just prepared to offer it regardless."

With that said, the former Barebone met my eyes, the emotion in them entirely unreadable. But it wasn't like Krum's, it was guarded in a way that felt that it could be persuaded to reveal itself. Krum's eyes were marred with his fury, his emotions were being defended by his fury. But the former Barebone had no guards for the emotions in his eyes, he just had a frail wall holding everything back.

He turned away then, continuing to pick his way ahead, and Bridgette and I fell into pace behind him.

"He cares for you," Bridgette whispered in my ear, and I stilled slightly at the notion.

"I don't know in what way, but he does," She stared ahead. "We can trust him, I believe. You can trust him."

"I don't want to," I managed slowly, keeping my voice low. "He betrayed my great uncle, and it almost killed him. I'm not my great uncle and I don't care to be, but I refuse to make the same mistakes."

Bridgette nodded at my side. "Alright then. I hope you trust this Dumbledore temporarily, at least. After you have the Elder Wand, there should be no reason to cross paths with him again." 

"I hope so too."

Aurelius motioned towards a clearing in the alps. A narrow pathway that led between the stone of the mountains, a pathway we would have to go down deeper to access. It looked dangerous, picking our way in between large mountains like that—at the mercy of the stone around us. But it was a good pathway to take to disguise our route, to hide if we needed to.

We made our way deeper downwards, having left the dense forest behind.

"Your mark, Dom," Brigette spoke up suddenly. "What does it look like? The one on your shoulder?"

I glanced at her as I stepped down a stone and landed in the clearing after her and Aurelius.

"It's the symbol of the deathly hallows," I answered, and she elicited a gasp as she halted in her spot, eyes widening.

"What is it?" My brows furrowed.

"I think Viktor Krum saw it. Your mark—I think he saw it."

"What?" I blinked. "No, he couldn't have. He doesn't know where it is."

Bridgette's eyes softened. "You were in pain. You were grasping at your shoulder before you fainted. Krum tended to you, he asked Dimitrova and me to stay away. He tried some spells to help you but they wouldn't work, so he sent us in the forest to track down a plant he thought could help ease your pain."

"You left him alone with me?"

"He forced us to. He said the plant would help and I didn't think twice."

I swallowed the empty lump in my throat. The thought of Viktor Krum unbuttoning my coat at the top and pulling down the neckline of my wool shirt at the shoulder to find the symbol of the deathly hallows etched onto my skin, sent shivers down my spine.

He had seen me scribble the symbol on parchment once, during the first time I had conversed with him. He had been so furious, it was when his hatred with me had started. I still couldn't place how considerate he had been with me before that. But now? He didn't know why I had the mark. He probably thought of me as a follower—an acolyte. His hatred for me must have no bounds now. 

"Mon dieu, Dominique," Bridgette took my hand. "What if Krum tries anything? He looked furious when he strode off—" 

"Viktor Krum will not touch you, or your mission," Aurelius Dumbledore's voice broke into my senses and my eyes met his determined ones. "You can be sure of that." 

***

A/N:
Wow, not life suddenly offering me a break to work on this thing. These past few weeks have been crazy. Anyways, hi I hope you're all doing good! happy sunday readers!