CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE

"DANCE WITH ME IN THE DARK," SHE whispered to me, taking hold of my hand and pulling me towards her, a vibrant smile pinned on her face as though it belonged there—despite the dark alps we were weaving our way through, despite the dark wizard that lay ahead.

The night was the darkest I have ever seen it be, the sky abandoned by the stars and the moon no longer in sight. The air held a chill in it—the barest thing that kissed a piece of my exposed skin, despite the cold protective charms Aurelius Dumbledore had in place safeguarding our presence. Somehow, his effort did not feel as considerate as Viktor Krum's had felt. Somehow, neither compared to each other.

Bridgette pulled me close and giggled softly, as we separated and she twirled me around, holding my finger as my hair spread out, my feet tracing an invisible rune on the ground in an art form I couldn't remember the last time I had done. I let out a small laugh, and it echoed in the small stone clearing between the mountains like the chimes of the Beauxbatons castle chandeliers on windy nights.

Bridgette stopped me, and I tugged on her own hand, pulling it to the top and holding her finger as she twirled this time. She was swift, quicker on her feet than I was. For a moment, I forgot about everything else, until I felt the chill seep into the skin on my face and down the walls of my throat. I realized I was panting, and a big laugh was frozen on my face as my chest heaved.

She stopped as we separated. Tugging a piece of hair away from her lips, she clapped her hands and laughed, our eyes meeting. Barely able to hold back my own laugh, I looked from her to Aurelius Dumbledore, only to find that the wizard had stopped in his tracks, and his eyes—dark, calculating and inquisitively mesmerized—stared at me.

His hands were still pinned behind his back, his posture ramrod straight, and a muscle twitched in his pale jaw.

Perhaps he wondered how careless I seemed, but he didn't realize I had spent all years of my life caring.

Bridgette didn't seem to care what the man in our company would think of this display of irregularity. She stood facing me, catching her breath as her smile slowly softened as mine did. Then she came close and put her hands on my upper arms, making me face her.

"Everything will be fine," She spoke, the sentence she had been exhaling like air since we crossed the hidden mountain pass and found ourselves twisting and turning in thin clearings with stone surrounding us, smack in the middle of the Austrian alps.

And somehow, every time she said it, I believed it a little more.

I nodded and she sighed, looping her arm around mine and finally acknowledging Aurelius.

"How much farther?"

He cleared his throat, blinking as if pulling himself out of trance. "A few more hours."

"Then we'll rest a while first," Bridgette declared, and I turned to look at her in protest.

"Non mon ami. Vous avez besoin de votre force," She shook her head. "We need to rest, we've been walking for hours. It'll be no good if you don't have your strength."

"No," Aurelius interrupted, his dark brows furrowed. "We need the nightfall. It is our best cover. We should not waste it."

"Just an hour at least," She snapped, her eyes fierce as she pinned the wizard with her glare.

Irritation ebbed away at his composure, and I could see how hard he was trying to maintain it still.

"Just a fucking hour, alright?" She enunciated again, emphasizing each word as though she was talking to a toddler and not a man ten years older than us.

But that was it, about Aurelius Dumbledore. His obscurus allowed him to look nearly like the boy he had been at eighteen. A little more mature, but the determination in his features still reflected the same way. As though somehow his aging was being conserved—as though that was his conviction's last gift to him, to be stuck in nearly the same form he had been when he had shone as Grindelwald's right hand man.

Taller still, with longer hair and perhaps firmer control on his own self, but his essence was still the same. I wonder if he had assumed he would change more, after going back under his family—Albus Dumbledore's protection.

I remembered distinctly, catching a glimpse of his eighteen year old self once, when I had been ten. I couldn't remember if it was in our house, or somewhere else—or perhaps in a dream. But I remember a living room meeting, Grindelwald's thick hand slapping Barebone's back in pride. A single slap, that shook his lean eighteen year old frame slightly. A boy with sickly pale skin and deep eyes, mustering a small smile at the dark wizard before it fell away once Grindelwald left the room. Then he too left, following behind the other acolytes, and I dropped the curtain I had been peeking in from, my hands chubby like an almost ten year old's.

The former Barebone did not protest to Bridgette's request, though his facial activity suggested otherwise. The wizard turned away, embarking on the silent mission to gather firewood. We were trudged deep in the middle of the snowy alps, and firewood would be scarce, if not nonexistent. I watched him stalk away, before turning to draw a rune and get a proper fire running.

Bridgette leaned over, rubbing her hands together and warming herself before seating herself down beside me.

I felt the exhaustion echo in my sore muscles, my calves, my shoulders. She had been right, I was tired, and perhaps to a point where I wouldn't have noticed until my senses truly darkened away. I couldn't trace back to when my exhaustion had turned into such numbness that I hadn't been able to register it. Perhaps it didn't want to bother me, to take up more space in my head than other emotions and worries were already occupying.

"Do you think your acolytes would be—," She broke away, a cloud of mist exhaling from between her lips as she kept the eyes on the small fire. "Viktor Krum and Dimitrova—"

"They will not be hurt," I interrupted her. "At least not more than they can handle. It's just to make them turn back."

"And they're not my acolytes." I added the last part firmly, an attempt at making myself believe it too.

"Yes, of course," She hurried, her worry clear on her face.

I blinked. She couldn't be worried for Viktor Krum, so was it Zubair Dimitrova? Had she gotten that close to him in the time I hadn't noticed? I realized again with a start how rarely I had been at Ilvermorny the past week, how rarely I had assumed my best friend had a life too because my own was just flashing and stabbing at my will, leaving me devoid of registering anything else.

"Ces deux-là iront bien," I pressed. "Who's to say they can't overpower the acolytes?"

Her lips parted as she considered that fact, eyes still focused on the fire.

"Krum and Dimitrova," I spoke their names, shrugging, "They train with swords, and are internationally renowned at Quidditch. Two things I don't suppose my great uncle weaved into the acolytes' training."

She let out a small smile, hope caressing her firelit face.

"Do you—," I broke off, gathering my courage again. "Do you like him? Dimitrova, I mean."

She turned to look at me, considering my question as though she hadn't really thought about it herself before.

"I want to," She answered then, her voice small. "But I don't know what he wants. Je ne le connais pas."

"When did you start feeling like this?" It felt guilty to ask, I felt ashamed suddenly, like I had lost my right to ask anything of her life.

"When you went missing, and nobody remembered you," She started, fixing her eyes back on the fire. "I was helpless. He joined me in the common room. I was having a breakdown, I was so ashamed of crying in front of him, but I couldn't help it. Il m'a offert du réconfort. He helped me realize that it was the Lien du sauveur. Well, I came to that conclusion myself, but he was just so supportive of it. I now realize that perhaps he always had an idea about you. About your heuristics I mean."

"He didn't reveal it," I managed slowly. If he knew for longer than he let on, why wouldn't he say something?

"Yes, and he didn't look at all like he does in front of everyone then," Bridgette continued. "He looked.. soft—kind. He's always like that when he talks to me after that moment. He's funny, and sweet, and then he shifts when he talks to anyone else. He's unlike any guy at Beauxbatons, or any other guy I've ever met."

I exhaled slowly, turning my own eyes towards the fire. It was hard to imagine Dimitrova like that, when he had first appeared to me as a flirting self proclaimed casanova and then to only be a slick snake at Viktor Krum's beck and call, meant to get under my skin for his sake. But I had heard him make her laugh in the forest, as Krum had nabbed at my composure.

"I'm sorry—," Bridgette let out suddenly, "This isn't the time or place for this I know."

"No," I interjected, "It's alright. Please, I need this right now to not dwell on what lies ahead."

She nodded in understanding, before breaking out a small laugh. "Are you saying, my silly troubles are distractions for you?"

I rolled my eyes. "You know what I mean."

"I do," Her laugh dissipated into a small smile. "So, is there anything I should know about you and Oliver Wood?"

I blinked, glancing at her in surprise. "What?"

"You and that Hogwarts guy," She repeated, as though it was the most obvious thing in the world. "I know you like him, despite all the rumors at Ilvermorny pairing you and Krum together."

"Well, I do like him," I started, slightly flustered. "But Wood is just a friend. He likes the same music I do, and he invited me to his dorm to listen to the records he has got." I laughed a little.

"But I don't think I can take him up on that offer now," I spoke, my laugh vanishing as my eyes fixed on the sky above.

"Wow," Bridgette mused, "So you finally found someone with a similar music taste, good for you mon ami."

I nudged her shoulder playfully. "Stop, Wood is just a friend. Nothing more."

"Well, that is a bummer then," She frowned. "You do need a date for The Lock Ball."

I startled at the mention of the celebration. I had completely forgotten about it. The Lock Ball marked the start of the Huntlock tournament, and now I was so close to The Elder Wand. So close to fixing myself, to fixing my own wand. So close to finally being free to even consider participating in the tournament like a normal Beauxbatons delegation student.

"When is it?" I asked, anxiety evident in my tone. This has got to be the second time I have asked this question.

Bridgette turned to look at me, the amusement on her face drifting away and being replaced with concern.

"Did you believe you wouldn't be able to attend?"

I blinked, shaking my head. "I just—"

"Yes," I gathered my resolve. "I did believe that."

"Then you're wrong," She answered firmly. "The Lock Ball is only two days away now. We will get you that Elder Wand, and you will be alright, your wand will be fixed and then we can hand over the wand to the wizarding government for them to deal with Voldemort."

"He's powerless without that thing, no more than Professor Fabien and Basil combined."

I managed a smile at the thought. Comparing Voldemort's powerlessness to the entire knowledge and power of our two Beauxbatons professors was borderline offensive to both parties, but of course, nobody else was around to take sides at present.

"So?" Bridgette nudged, "Your date to the ball? Who's it going to be? Vous devez décider, le temps presse."

"S'il vous plaît, ce n'est pas comme si j'avais beaucoup d'options," I rolled my eyes playfully. "But I do remember agreeing to accompany Oliver Wood."

"What?" Bridgette laughed in surprise, "That weasel, he's so clever."

"I'm just going with him as a friend," I hastened. "It's nothing else, and I realize now that I wasn't thinking clearly when I agreed. I should've made my position clear."

"Why? Won't you give him a chance?"

"No, I just—" I broke off, "He's been facing down with Krum lately, and Krum is so ruthless. And I think it's all because of me."

"I'm listening," Bridgette probed, popping a hand under her chin, eyes fixed on me in exaggerated anticipation.

"Krum said the strangest stuff to me before we left Ilvermorny," I started, my voice lowering. "I don't think I can recount his words to you without faltering. He sounded so genuine, so passionate and.. jealous. I didn't know what to say."

I swallowed. His words were still fresh in my ears, throbbing in my chest, and I didn't realize that it was showing on my face.

"Maybe I want you, up front."

"Wow," Bridgette straightened, an alarm etched on her face. "Wait, are you for real? You cannot like him Dom."

"Why?" I asked before I could even register the word. Was I stupid? There were numerous reasons I could not afford to like Viktor Krum, numerous reasons that involved him only hurting me at every turn that he had taken.

"Wouldn't anyone be like him if they were in his place?" I countered, confused eyes pinning themselves in Bridgette's hoping for her wisdom.

"Grindelwald killed his grandfather, and when he told me that, I told him that the dark wizard has killed many, and that he should stop living in the past."

"Tell me," I pressed. "Wouldn't anyone treat me like this if they were in his position and hated Grindelwald? Wouldn't they have the natural right to scorn me and my existence?"

"Natural right?" Bridgette repeated, "What are you even saying? Whatever Grindelwald did is not your burden to bear, Dominique. Viktor Krum only saw you drawing a symbol, he didn't know anything else. He is a pathetic coward for blaming you and directing his fury onto you without having the knowledge of anything concrete. He has hurt you so many times, and none of it is his right."

"And now that he knows who Grindelwald is to you—or rather, whatever he assumes if he saw your mark, he still does not have the right to blame you for the dark wizard's actions."

I turned away from her, my eyes finding the flickering warm fire again. She was right. Then why was this pull that existed between Krum and me forcing me to try and understand him despite everything he did to me? Why was this pull between us blinding me like this?

"Dominique," Bridgette's voice lowered, the intensity in it increasing as she touched my elbow. "Do you really like him?"

"I have these visions sometimes, fueled by anger and hatred that I feel at moments. Viktor Krum triggered the recent two, and it wasn't until the second that I realized that I can't see him hurt. I couldn't stand seeing him in pain, even if it was not real and just a stupid vision."

"I care about him," I spoke, letting my feelings take root. "I care what he thinks about me, and every word he says has the power to hurt me. I feel the most alive when he is looking at me—when he's close to me. And if that is what you mean by like, then yes, I like him and I'm afraid it has overpowered the hatred I hold for him."

Bridgette looked at me, her eyes pinned into mine as she tried to think of what to say, but then she gave up and slowly rested her head on my shoulder as we both faced the fire quietly. A distant satisfaction rolled inside me, perhaps the vocal admittance of one's feelings really did make a difference to oneself, an act I had long doubted. We stayed silent as minutes rolled by.

Somewhere, crows cawed loudly and a wind blew towards the east, shaking and ruffling the trees in the forest we had left behind, a collective sound that registered like a distant hum throughout the atmosphere. My stomach twisted slightly, the emptiness of it scalding and uncomfortable. I forgot the last time I had eaten something, the last time I had had a stable appetite.

Suddenly, footsteps grated against the stones in between the mountains we were camped at, and they grew closer by the second. It was Aurelius, the sound of the steps he made was distinguishable, as both Bridgette and I had learned over the last handful of hours we had been journeying with him.

He hurried out in our view, his usually composed face betraying his panic and alarm, dark eyes wide and hands for the first time pinned at his sides.

"Use your heuristics and get us inside Nurmengard, now."

"What?" I let out standing up, my voice barely above a whisper. "You said that it was dangerous—you said it would reveal my presence."

That was the entire reason I had needed Aurelius Dumbledore in the first place. He had emphasized the dangers of translocating myself into the fortress using my heuristics. It was an efficient way and it could've saved me hours upon hours of the hassle of the journey, it could've saved me from Viktor Krum's scrutiny—his ever strengthening hatred. I would've been in and I would've gotten out. It would've taken me minutes.

But the fact that it would make my presence known? The scent of my magic will alert wizards and witches captive inside Nurmengard, or those who were guarding it, to the surviving heuristic magic?

It was a heavy risk. I'll always be trailed, I would always have to be on the run. I would always have to hide myself—in more ways than I had been hiding before.

 "We have no choice now," Aurelius rushed, "Just do it."

"What the hell do you mean?" Bridgette cried, frustration evident in her tone as she scrambled onto the feet. "You couldn't give us a single fucking hour could you?"

"Damn it," The wizard hissed, "It's not about the hour. Someone's here, and it's not the two Durmstrangs you left behind."

"But it'll expose my presence—" I protested, my voice slightly shaking. "My magic—people will know of its survival. I can't—"

"You have to," He spoke the words, each syllable so heavy and forceful.

"How do you know someone's here?" I looked at him, my eyes narrowing as panic swirled in my chest. An unknown threat felt scarier than a known one.

 "I can feel it," He responded curtly.

"She cannot reveal herself like this," Bridgette cried at the Dumbledore, "Can't you see she's hesitant? Is this your obscurus acting up?"

The former Credence Barebone's dark eyes flashed something wild as they darted towards Bridgette's, hatred and anger swirling in them. I drowned in a wave of recognition then, a look that I had seen harbored by only the fiercest acolytes in my great uncle's midst when I was little, now sat raw and unadjusted on the former Barebone's face.

Had he not lost it? Had he not discarded the look, when he had left Grindelwald behind?

I saw his hand move, and I didn't need to see more. A rune was drawn ready at my side as I grabbed hold of Aurelius Dumbledore's raised hand as quick as light, and his arm paused in mid air briefly before I quickly let go and it crashed onto the stone ground at our feet. The wizard's form contorted along with it, as his hand, now of the heaviest of lead embedded itself deep in the stone ground as bits of rock flew wayward at the impact.

He groaned in pain and wretched fury, an animal-like sound that I wouldn't ever attach to that of a human's if I hadn't orchestrated this punishment and seen it unfold in front of me. The weight of his hand was now such that deep cracks appeared in the stone ground and darted every which way, spreading out like lightning traces underneath our feet. A constellation borne of fury and pain.

"Dominique," Aurelius cursed, his voice breaking at the edges like stone, his head bent in his struggle as dust settled in the air around us.

His hair fell over his face, his back muscles twitching under his thick dark attire.

Bridgette grabbed my arm and held me back, trembling in shock at my side. But I felt none of her fear, only a gnawing anger at the break in Aurelius Dumbledore's composure. I felt the blatant anger of being went against—the kind my great uncle must once have been privy to when the head acolyte Credence Barebone packed up at the sign of trouble and left.

"Dominique," Aurelius Dumbledore wailed in fury again, and I was certain whoever he had originally felt—or if he had felt anyone at all—could hear his voice. 

"You don't fucking touch us," I sneered, my chest heaving as the weight of my glare pinned him down, along with my spell.

"I wasn't going to do anything—" The wizard keened, grunting like a wounded beast. "I swear it, it won't happen again."

"We have to get to Nurmengard, there's someone else here," He continued in between pants, "Lift your spell."

My fists tightened at my side, my anger still throbbing at me like a second heart. A sudden urge to have him beg for our forgiveness flooded me, an electricity bolt that stemmed from seeing a wizard like him—undefeated still by the deadly obscurus and a former right hand of a dark wizard—on his knees, helpless, in front of me.

"Dom, do it," Bridgette spoke at my side, her voice barely above a whisper. "He won't attempt this again, we have to get to Nurmengard."

I exhaled slowly, she was right. With a swift move of my wrist, I redid the rune and removed its effects. The wizard at our feet let out a low groan, before slowly attempting to retrieve his hand out from the stone grave its weight had created. His hand was blotched with red and purple, pale skin no longer pale, but a sickly gray—as though all the blood had been drained out from it. Bridgette squirmed and turned her head away, and I pushed my nausea back.

Aurelius straightened up, his eyes on his inflicted hand as he cradled his entire arm with his good one. His dark eyes slowly lifted to meet mine from in between the strands of his damp perspired hair, he was resolute and submissive to an extent, as though he had slowly realized that I could do this without him now that I had no choice but to use my heuristics to translocate into the fortress.

"I'm taking us to Nurmengard," I sneered at him, my previous consideration and tolerance for him no longer an amenity to be found inside of me.

"As you have now suggested an alternative route to the fortress, I no longer depend on you. But you are still coming along. You will use your wand and knowledge of the castle to defend us if something goes wrong inside, and when I face my great uncle, you will protect Bridgette with your life."

"There will be hell to pay if you cross me, former Credence Barebone, as I'm sure you have realized by now."

The man didn't say anything, his carefully veiled dark eyes betraying no defiance—just a firm resolution. I turned to glance at Bridgette, my eyes softening. She swallowed visibly as her soft brown eyes met mine, lightly tightening her hold on my arm to let me know that she was ready. That was all the confirmation I needed.

I exhaled a slow breath, and then my fingers had ready a rune at my side as my right hand glowed and I set my intention. Then I shut my eyes, and the ground hurtled away from my feet, the wind around me temporarily going still as Bridgette clung closer to me and her slight gasp echoed in my ear. 

The ground when it met my feet back again was of smooth stone, unlike the harsh broken one we had been treading on in clearings between the mountain peaks. I quickly opened my eyes, and a gasp elicited out of my lips of its own accord.

The stone cut of the fortress was pristine, as though each brick had been sharpened by enslaved elves under strict scrutiny. We had landed in a courtyard, a floor higher up, with the tallest tower of the castle towering at our right. It was squared, the stone of it was the color of a dull brown, and only a single opening could be detected all the way at the top—a desolate and dark square window. The peak of the tower was a sharp black, coated with a thin blanket of snow.

Upon quick inspection, I realized that Nurmengard had no other towers, just thin and small turrets surrounding the premises with no visible window openings in them, the rest of the castle building consisted of two courtyards, the small one we presently occupied, and a larger one was situated at the ground floor. There were no guards in sight, and the larger courtyard below shone underneath the attention on the now peeking moon.

"It's a fortress alright," Bridgette's claim drifted into my ears. She was grasping the balustrade of the small upper courtyard we were in, peeking down below as the aggressive winds flew her auburn hair behind her head like a veil.

I glanced at the entrance of the castle below, thick iron doors that were bolted shut from the snowy alps outside, a single inscription etched onto the iron banner above.

'For the greater good.'

I swallowed a lump in my throat. Pivoting on my feet, I spotted Aurelius Dumbledore, the wizard too, was inquisitive as he looked around, still cradling his damaged arm—an expression on his face that resembled awe and anticipation in equal measure.

I wondered suddenly how he felt at that moment. Had he not left Grindelwald's allegiance sooner, perhaps it would be him as well, occupying one of the slots in the tallest and the main tower, with no window to honor his orphaned and diseased status.

"Where are the guards?" I let out, eyes fiercely on him. "Where is the protection? I see no one in sight."

Aurelius met my eyes with his partial submisson. "There is no further protection at Nurmengard, except the numerous charms preventing breakages into the main tower that holds the captives. But they won't work on you. They weren't casted with heuristics wizards and witches in mind."

I turned away from him, glancing at the main tower and choosing to ignore his dull play at a jest. Heuristic wizards and witches haven't walked the ground for four centuries, of course Grindelwald wouldn't think of them before assigning protection to a fortress he constructed for his own gain. He had constructed the prison long before I was born and he had no inkling of who I was going to be. Of course, nobody would think of a line of magic as a threat when it had long been believed to have gone extinct. 

"Is the fortress itself this easy to locate?"

"No," Aurelius replied firmly. "The castle too has been hidden from outside eyes, I half suspected your magic wouldn't lead us to it and we would have to continue traveling by foot using the pathway I know of." 

"Don't waste time," The wizard added after a pause, his urgent tone weaving into my reverie. "I told you, someone else is getting close. They don't have the power you do so it may take them a while yet, to get here."

I met his eyes, my hair blowing in my face.

"You have to get that wand."

I looked again at the main tower. My heart hammering inside my chest.

"He is in there isn't he? The highest room in the tallest tower," My words punctuated with a small empty laugh. "Just like in the fairy tales."

"Yet he is no prince," Bridgette spoke as she approached, putting a hand on my shoulder, "No princess, no good creature in distress."

I released a breath and glanced at my great uncle's former acolyte. "How do I get in?"

"You translocate yourself to the top most cell," Aurelius responded in a beat. "Those who have the ability or knowledge to, will know of the scent of your magic soon. So there's no need to play it safer than we have at present."

"Our best option right now is to make it quick, Dominique," Bridgette turned me to face her, her soft brown eyes encouraging as they peered into mine.

"You know what you want, and you are here to get it. Don't let anyone distract you from it, don't let anything blind you from it."

I stilled at her advice. Had I ever spoken to her of how fearful I was of facing my great uncle? I didn't recall it. Had my fear spoken for itself? It must've, or perhaps, my panicked heart no longer kept track of my own words.

I nodded, forcing the rapid beating of the organ in my chest to slow itself down. Then she squeezed me into a hug, and I melted into it, before slowly separating. I threw a glance at Aurelius, highlighting through it everything I had instructed him on before. He received it with a slow nod.

Then I pivoted, and with my back to them, I drew the rune that would get me to the top most cell in the tallest and only main tower of Nurmengard. The one where Gellert Grindelwald resided in chains in a dark room. And perhaps for the first time in eight years, he would have a visitor. 

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A/N:
If you think these last few chapters have been sentimental, you aren't ready for the next one! Also, what do you all think is going on with Viktor? I'm so frustrated with him, but I love it haha