CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN

LIKE OPHELIA, MADNESS SEEMED TO reach its cold dead fingers to grip my flesh, but it never quite touched. Perhaps it knew I was not ready for it yet, and it was biding its time.

Ilvermorny was shroud in a cloak of darkness when I brought myself and Bridgette back. My magic felt foreign to use now—as though using it to kill a dark wizard, one of the greatest the world had ever seen, had expanded it somehow. The expansion had much to do with the limits of heuristics. I was so aware of them before, now I felt as though no such limits existed. That feeling alone was terrifying, for could I confirm it from?

The solitary full moon that had shone on me in the top most cell of Nurmengard's main tower, shone above me now too—undeterred by everything it had witnessed. If I stared at it hard enough, I could just barely see it shift its stance slightly, as though shaking his head and calling me a murderer.

But why would the moon itself side with Gellert Grindelwald? If it truly did, it would know that the dark wizard demanded his death by my hands. Perhaps it mocked me for giving him the one last request that the man did not deserve on account of his crimes.

Bridgette and I stood in the hospital wing of Ilvermorny, the cluster of candles at the side table had been illuminated by Bridgette as she tucked her rowan wood wand back into her back pocket. The flickering candle lights casted shadows at our feet as we stood facing the bed the formerly missing Beauxbatons student, Maximillian Toussaint, lay on.

He looked alright, though the skin wrapping his form was a sickly gray than the olive color it used to adorn. No visible injuries marred his physique, and his Beauxbatons uniform—the attire he had been wearing at the time of his disappearance was dirtied and splotched with mud. His eyes were closed as he slept soundly, his straight chest rising and falling with equal intervals. The freckles across his face had turned a darker shade of gray as well, abandoning the burnt orange they used to be.

"il a l'air bien, je m'attendais à pire d'une manière ou d'une autre," Bridgette spoke softly, releasing a breath. "What do you think happened to him?"

A scuttle sounded in the silent courtyard the hospital wing opened up to, and I briefly turned to look, hearing nothing more. The moon was still bold outside, reluctant to shy away behind clouds anymore.

"I don't know," I replied.

The hospital wing was empty, with no other forms aside from ours. It was hours past curfew. Empty pristine beds lined the hall, and Maximillian Toussaint had been placed on the middle one—as if the positioning had purposefully meant to make him a specimen of interest. At the foot of his bed lay dried bouquets of flowers and get well cards scribbled hastily from Ilvermorny students to Hogwarts students alike.

I wondered if one of the intricacies was from Elias Dupont, I hoped my friend was himself now, now that Toussaint was found.

"If it had been Voldemort," Bridgette swallowed, whispering the name cautiously. "Wouldn't he have killed him? Like that Hogwarts boy?"

Cedric Diggory. It was strange—cruel even, how the Hogwarts delegation itself pretended that the boy hadn't existed. Walking into another tournament after the last one a few months ago had resulted in the death of one of their own, was an act both ruthless and cruel. But I didn't feel as strongly about it as I had felt on the Ilvermorny express on the way to America. I had changed since then, covered my hands in blood and left a message for a rising dark wizard, pinning him onto my trail on purpose. I was in no position to judge, and I didn't find the judgment in me either.

"Alors ce n'était pas lui," I murmured.

Why would Voldemort capture a student and just let him go? After making himself known for killing one previously? It didn't make sense.

"Maybe it was Grindelwald," I voiced the thread in my head, admittance affirming the belief slowly.

"Would you have come to see me otherwise? Had I not called?"

"It was him," I spoke again, shutting my eyes tightly and reopening them. "He was leading me to him. Everything he did was to make me end up facing him in that cell."

"Weren't you determined to head to him regardless?" Bridgette turned to me, her eyes softening. "Why use a student to force you?"

"He used a Beauxbatons student. That explains the rest of it," I touched the back of my neck, exhaustion seeped into every crevice of me as though I had soaked it up like a sponge. "He didn't know who's disappearance would affect me the most. Il a fait une supposition aveugle. There must've been a message. He must've left a message somewhere that I missed."

"So he just chose Maximillian blindly? Where do you think he left the message?"

I nodded. "It doesn't matter now. It would've been something subtle, my great uncle wouldn't jeopardize my position at Beauxbatons for anything."

I shifted at the realization. He wouldn't risk my exposure, he never had. Despite having the reach outside of his captivity, having broken out his own acolytes without them knowing, he hadn't done anything that would publicly endanger my position or everything I had built for myself.  

Bridgette touched my elbow in the gesture she had performed every few minutes since we had left Nurmengard and the Austrian alps behind.

"You did the right thing," She spoke this time, words she hadn't uttered before at those previous moments of consolation.

Of course, she was talking about my act of murdering the dark wizard bound in Nurmengard, and nothing else. She knew not of the promise that I had made to him, she knew not that I no longer wanted the mark of the deathly hallows burnt off my skin, and she knew not that I carried a legacy now that I wanted to make my own.

Bridgette Monet, my best friend, who was bound to me through Lien du sauveur and had accompanied me to my great uncle's threshold, knew only what I chose to tell her afterwards.

"S'il te plaît, Dominique. No more lies, please."

It wasn't lying if she knew only what she needed to, and was kept oblivious to what didn't concern her. Had I ever even lied to her before? Not opening up to someone was not an act of lying.

"It is over then is it?" Bridgette spoke up again, a hopeful tinge in her tone. "Albus Dumbledore has The Elder Wand, and surely he will use it to help you when you ask him to. He's also a capable wizard, he'll keep the wand safe from Voldemort. Dumbledore is the wizarding authority Krum is adamant on, he'll see that too."

"I don't think Albus Dumbledore is in the good graces of any wizarding authority at present," I reached out to touch the skin at Maximillian Toussaint's neck gently, wanting to feel if it was as cold as it looked.

It wasn't. Where had Grindelwald been keeping him? Would Toussaint remember what happened to him? Somehow I knew my great uncle wouldn't have made such a mistake.

"You are forgetting that the world believes him to have sided with Harry Potter, following the claims of Voldemort's return."

"If the ministry of magic finds out that he has The Elder Wand," I added, pausing as I retrieved my hand back to my side. "It will not bode well for him, considering the fact that he escaped Britain to traipse in America following the death of a student, in pursuit of a trophy of a different tournament."

Bridgette blinked, registering my words in silence.

"N'a pas l'air bien n'est-ce pas?" I shrugged nonchalantly, "But it isn't our headache now."

"I suppose not," She murmured.

I turned my eyes away from her and focused on the flickering candle lights at the side table beside Toussaint's head. Realization dawned on me then, when it had fluttered above my senses refusing to be caught. Grindelwald was right. Albus Dumbledore would not be able to keep the wand safe.

"It can't be left with Albus Dumbledore, I see no future for him and that wand will leave his grasp."

"..he will find out that Dumbledore has it. Then he will end Dumbledore's life and acquire the wand for himself."

Gellert Grindelwald believed that Voldemort would kill Albus Dumbledore. The fact alone was unnerving, startling. How could he predict such a thing? How had he predicted Voldemort would come to him as well and that he would die by the wizard's wand if I hadn't taken his life instead?

Somewhere in the courtyard adjacent, an owl hooted, solitary, patient. I wondered how Voldemort would react to the scene that awaited him once he surpassed the charms and curses and found himself in the top most cell of the main tower of Nurmengard. I wondered if he would scream, claw at himself in the fury of the realization that he was not playing this game alone.

At Gregorovitch's, after finding the wandmaker devoid of his memories, and after placing the scent of the magic at the scene with that of heuristics—perhaps Voldemort assumed the obstacle in his path a temporary setback, a momentary loss. But now? Now he wouldn't make such a mistake anymore. Now he would search for me harder, grinding his death eaters to dust in the process if he had to.

I should be afraid of being caught. With les dorés lurking in the shadows at Ilvermorny, and one of them a guest, and now with Voldemort searching for a heuristic wizard he probably assumed Aurelius Dumbledore to be from that glimpse of an encounter at Gregorovitch's house—I should be terrified of being caught. But I wasn't.

There was no leaving Ilvermorny now. I had no great uncle calling me anymore, and the Huntlock tournament was two days away, with the Lock ball only a single more night away. And I was ready to face everything for as long as I was amongst these walls.

I had been gifted a legacy now, one that I was wearing on my body like people wore clothes—except, nothing will ever remove it off of me. I was no longer the witch who hid herself just for the fear of exposure, for the fear of being discarded. Now I realize that only I had the power to discard, I held the upper hand, and if fear was intent on clinging to someone, it would think twice before coming near me.

"Still," Bridgette released a breath, mistaking my silence for worry as she looped her arm around mine. "First thing we'll do is get Albus Dumbledore to help you. If any of the wizarding authorities, be it America or Britain, lay claim to the wand later, we can't do anything about it but accept it."

I murmured an agreement, though my mind was entirely elsewhere. The promise I had made to my great uncle sat perched inside me, taking up space, holding me accountable even though it had been mere hours since I had made it. Grindelwald's blood was still seeped into the crevices of my palms—dried up in between the whorls of my fingertips when I had pressed it in against the wall of the cell in an attempt to blood down a message.

Albus Dumbledore will not be keeping The Elder Wand. I will not be asking him to help me at all. Why should I? When I was perfectly capable of helping myself? Why should I, when it should be others realizing that they needed help from me?

I will be dueling the old wizard, and I will win the allegiance of that wand. That wand was not just the uphold of a promise for me, that wand would aid me in changing Grindelwald's legacy into something greater that only I will be the orchestrator of.

When Voldemort makes himself known to the wizarding world instead of hurtling in the shadows scrambling around for The Elder Wand, only I will be the one stable enough to protect myself and others. Paired with my heuristics, only I will be the witch able enough to defend myself and put up a fight. If what Grindelwald spoke of came to fruition, then Albus Dumbledore would need me to save his life.

But where was my motivation? Would it come when I see the old wizard pinned to the ground, choking and coughing up blood? Would my motivation to save him come rushing to me then? But at present, I felt none of it.

Perhaps, like Gregorovitch claimed, I would not keep the wand. Perhaps after I win its allegiance from Albus Dumbledore and use it against Voldemort, I'll grow tired of it. Or perhaps I won't. At present, I had not the surety my great uncle displayed when he prophesied at the brink of his death.

"Je suis épuisé, le soleil va bientôt se lever," I murmured, glancing at the sky above the adjacent courtyard.

"Yes, let's get some rest," Bridgette responded. "The worst of it is over I believe."

I didn't have the strength to be audible about how wrong she was as she pulled out her wand and with a flick blew all the candles she had lit, off. The hospital wing plunged into a serene darkness only slightly illuminated by the light of the moon coming from the courtyard.

I thought then how confident she was that even with the threat of Voldemort looming large, she believed that the wizarding world would handle whatever he threw at us. I remembered how I had been of that same belief too before coming to America. Even with the headlines of Cedric Diggory's death in the newspapers, and Harry Potter's claims inked on every page of the lumière un journal, I had believed that the wizarding world would prepare itself and handle everything.

But then the acolytes broke out of their cells, and the death eaters, and every surety I had of the magical world went to hell. The wizarding world, I realized now, was a brittle thing just waiting to be shattered by someone who had the strength to pick it up and fling it across.

"Dominique," Bridgette orated, breaking my stream of thought as we made our way silently past the dark Ilvermorny corridors.

"When will Viktor Krum and Dimitrova be back?"

"I've asked Flora to take them someplace and apparate them to Ilvermorny from there," I felt the irritation and anxiety ebb at me, thinking of Viktor Krum's fury and retaliation once he returned. "She's had to take them far from the alps, since wand magic is not working in the castle's area."

"They'll be here, give or take a few hours," I added plainly.

"And what of the spell you cast to erase our presence and memories from Ilvermorny? Before we left?"

"Ours have returned," I glanced at her briefly as we entered the common room of the east wing of the castle. "Krum's and Dimitrova's will return as soon as they step foot inside Ilvermorny." 

I felt a surge of satisfaction then, as I dwelled on Krum's fury in particular. I had successfully proven to him that he couldn't cower me. His persistence on coming along and upholding his self given duty as The Elder Wand's safeguard transporter, his infuriating threats all directed at me—I had thwarted everything. I had had him tossing around like a hamster in a cage that I built, with his snake, Zubair Dimitrova as company.

Would he place that the acolytes that attacked him were sent by me? I couldn't say. It all depended on what he thought of my mark—what he assumed of it—if he had made his scrutiny like Bridgette and I suspected.

"What are you guys doing up at this hour?" A sudden declaration brought us both to a halt, and we spun around in unison to come face to face with Elias Dupont.

His deep brown eyes were inquisitive, and his dark hair, always so perfectly combed, was such so at this ungodly hour of the night as well. Though, our Beauxbatons friend wore his striped pajamas—the only oddity that hinted towards the informal in his usually so pristine presence.

The sudden question startled me. It was so normal, that it seemed strange and far off. A question that shouldn't perhaps be posed to a witch who had just murdered her great uncle in one of the most guarded of prison cells in the wizarding world, and then taunted another dark wizard by resorting to exchanging a message on a wall.

"We couldn't sleep," Bridgette blurted out, pushing past her shock and discomfort and pinning a smile to her face. "So we just thought we'd take a walk."

"Didn't we, Dom?"

"Oui," I responded, mustering a nod.

Elias held a book in his hand, with a gilded spine that reflected the candle light he had illuminated for his night escapade in the corner of the common room. It looked peculiar seeing him less bothered than he would've been if he'd known where we had come from. Concern from Elias Dupont was something I had come to expect, even when it bordered on his rage, disappointment and disbelief.

I remembered the last encounter we had had, him being adamant on the implication that I had something going on with Viktor Krum, and that I was selfish to not care of Toussaint.

"You don't care if a student is missing. You're deep into The Huntlock, Dominique, just like Gabriel, Krum and everyone else."

Elias' words hadn't held an ounce of truth then, but they would now. I was here to stay, and if I had to put up with The Huntlock just to ensure I get The Elder Wand in the process, I was willing to do more than just put up with it.

I turned my head away, not having the urge to speak to Elias, our last encounter vivid in my head. Bridgette sensed the discourse, she had been there then just as she was here now.

"So—," She started hastily, in an attempt to smooth over the conversation. Which, I didn't think should be called one at all.

"Thank goodness for Maximillian right?" She swallowed awkwardly, "We are so glad he's back safe."

Elias Dupont blinked, a look of confusion on his face. "Ben ouais. He's been back for a whole day now. And I thought we already had this conversation?"

Bridgette tossed a panicked glance at me, which I couldn't for the life of me replicate. I suppose wiping memories of people's existence from minds have a way of glitching when you force them back in again.

"Well," Bridgette trailed, realizing she'll have no assistance from me. "One cannot be less thankful for miracles."

"I wouldn't call it a miracle," Elias ran a hand on the cover of the book he held, before tossing the thing on a cushion on the common room floor. "You know he hasn't opened his eyes since he was found. They are practically feeding him through insertions and injections with the fear that he'll probably starve if they don't—I mean who knows what Voldemort fed or did not feed him?"

"Voldemort?" Bridgette spoke, "You believe he did this?

"What—," Elias scrunched up his face, "Have you been high lately? The dementors have been called away because reports of death eaters keep popping up everywhere. Because of what happened to Maximillian, Agilbert Fontaine made the announcement yesterday that if circumstances get dire at Ilvermorny and if the dementors return, Albus Dumbledore has volunteered to host the remainder of The Huntlock at Hogwarts. The les dorés have agreed on the change, and so has the guest. They would accompany us."

"Is dropping the thing entirely not an option?" I offered, disguising my shock as amusement as I turned the given information in my head.

"Of course not, unless Voldemort himself stands in front and calls for a halt," Elias retorted.

"What I'm trying to say," He began, "Is that Agilbert Fontaine and Albus Dumbledore, along with several other staff members of Ilvermorny and the entire Hogwarts delegation believe the worst. Despite Fontaine's attempts to find Maximillian, and les dorés lurking in the shadows, a second year Ilvermorny student was the one to discover his unconscious form in the castle's back courtyard. So you see, it's all fucking useless."

"Someone fucking took him and then returned him like a trash doll without anyone knowing or seeing," Elias hissed, agitated. "Fontaine is paranoid because of it. He thinks it's a taunt, that Ilvermorny will produce another Cedric Diggory if he's not careful. Albus Dumbledore claims that he's requested further protection for Hogwarts after Diggory, he claims that it would be wise to host The Huntlock there. Fontaine is hesitant, but I think it's not long before he's convinced."

"With Ilvermorny out here in the mountains, it's basically calling for attention hosting The Huntlock, with everything as wayward as it is out there."

I exchanged a glance with Bridgette. Her expression was plain, because of course, we knew Voldemort was back, but I think her mind was starting to swirl with the doubt of just how the wizarding world would handle him.

"So yes, I think Voldemort is behind all this," Elias took a breath. "If you'd both pay attention around you, you will realize how quickly everyone is taking sides."

"But, if it is Voldemort, wouldn't he target Britain first? Hogwarts?" Bridgette managed, her voice meek. "C'est plausible."

"Nobody can be sure of that anymore," He dismissed, "If the dark wizard had his eyes on Britain, he wouldn't have played this game with Maximillian. Or maybe its someone else, a fucking student who did this to Toussaint. But I don't believe that anymore. There are rumors that Voldemort is looking for something, that he's galivanting across the world and turning over sticks and stones. If he is, you think he won't find Ilvermorny perched in the Greylock mountains?"

"You have built your theories on rumors," I let out, failing to keep the amusement from my voice. "And so have they all."

"Albus Dumbledore has been paranoid along with Harry Potter since he stepped into Ilvermorny, and now he is inflicting it onto everyone else. The most we can all do is stand our ground."

Elias shot me a look of utter disbelief, and I understood that it was coming from someone who had been at Ilvermorny long enough to come to the conclusion he had so readily embraced.

"Excusez-moi, je suis fatigué," I mustered a faint smile and pivoted, heading towards the spiral stairs that lead upwards to our dorm rooms.

I heard Bridgette speak, her voice low and apologetic as she hurried after me moments later as I entered our dorm room and started tugging on my warm coat. I had been cooking inside of my attire, my anxiety and the events that had unfolded making me warmer than I needed to be. I could sense myself radiate the heat, and I knew if I touched my forehead, I'd hiss with a second degree burn.

"Dominique," Bridgette voiced, her tone bothered. "Why would you say it like that to Elias? He is correct, we know that. All this paranoia of Fontaine's and Dumbledore's has merit. So why then would you pretend it's not warranted?" 

Having rid myself of my layers, I pressed my body onto my bed, melting myself in its soft embrace as I held back a moan of temporary contentment from slipping past my lips.

"I'm just playing it like them," I said, finding it easy to shrug my shoulders lying down. "You cannot deny now that Albus Dumbledore was correct in not publicly agreeing to Harry Potter's claim, despite believing in it in private."

"It's a strategy to maintain peace. To hold down the calm a little while longer before the storm, if you will."

"Do you suppose it's better to be caught by surprise than being warned?"

"I didn't used to think that," I agreed, watching her topple into her own bed, our exhaustion evident. "But it works, you know. Besides, Voldemort is looking for the wand that Dumbledore has, and he doesn't know where it is. The dark wizard will not make himself known without having that power by his side. It's no use affirming the paranoia and feeding fire to it just now." 

She hummed something, her voice too tired to make any sense, and then as I glanced at the blowing sheer curtains lining our dorm balcony, I tumbled into a deep sleep. 

─── ☾ ───

"There's a divine spark in you, az én kis pillangóm."

The words echoed inside my head, getting louder each second before they pressed tightly against my ear drums and I jostled awake. It sounded as if Grindelwald had spoken them into my ears again, and I half expected to find his heterochromic eyes meeting mine—his chain bounded form dirty and out of place in our pristine Ilvermorny dorm room. But he wasn't there, of course. His body was hung up pierced in Nurmengard—some sort of a sick attempt at a religious death, people would argue.

The sky outside the balcony was a clear cloudy one, the sun having taken refuge behind its fortress of clouds, making it clear that it would not in fact be facing those below anytime soon. I turned over to find Bridgette's bed at a distance empty and made up. I sat up and looked around, coming to the abrupt conclusion that I had slept in, and she had left on time to start our normal day at Ilvermorny.

It wouldn't be a first for her, but for me?

I checked the time. 7:45am. The Grand Hall would serve breakfast at precisely 8. Atleast, I had surety of that piece of information. My stomach grumbled at the idea of breakfast, and I clutched it when it gave a painful jolt suddenly. How long had it been since I ate anything at all? I had had food packed with me, in my extension pouch, but god forbid I ever actually open that thing.

Getting up, I quickly stripped and stepped into the shower, willing the scalding hot water to wash away every last bit of the physical effects of my circumstances for the past few days. After washing myself and my hair, I stepped out, dressing myself in my Beauxbatons uniform that sat neatly pressed, spread out on the turquoise arm chair in our dorm.

I sent a silent message of gratitude to Bridgette, running my hands over the skirts as I zipped the uniform up. Glancing at the time again, I quickly started on my hair. The process of drying it and using heat to manipulate the dark locks into soft waves, was an arduous one given the time I had to spare on it. But I managed it just the same.

Then, affording my face my usual adequate attention with a little bit of makeup, I shot one last satisfied glance at myself in the mirror, and then headed out the door—just barely managing to grab my sky blue uniform hat and my wand.

I trudged down the spiral staircase, trying to tug my wand into one of the knee high cream socks I had on. I still had yet to use it again. It would work fine, I knew that, now that Grindelwald was dead. Hadn't Gregorovitch mentioned once that killing the dark wizard would help too? I bit my lip, a sudden regret stemming from pain erupting inside me at the attempt of the joke. I pushed the reaction aside, clearing my mind as I stepped into the common room of the east wing dormitories.

The distant hum of busy conversation that I hadn't placed before now found me full force. Some Durmstrangs were in the common room, a group of five standing in the corner talking in thick notes of Bulgarian—their voices lowering as soon I stepped in, though they really had no need to resort to such a tactic since I had none of Bulgarian in me and I was confident they knew that too.

The faces of the Durmstrangs' were not expressly familiar, they were the ones I hadn't yet spoken to, though they were often the ones I had seen in Yordanka Hristova, or Viktor Krum's periphery.

There was no one else in the common room, since it was breakfast time in the Grand Hall. I briefly wondered why these students were not prioritizing breakfast too, before my question was quickly answered.

"Dominique Lavigne?" One of The Durmstrangs stepped forward, the light eyes on his deep bronze skin pinning me in my spot.

I put my uniform cap on my head, touching my hair slightly before answering. "Yes?"

"You have been called by Headmaster Fontaine," The guy spoke, his voice thinner than I had expected, taking me slightly by surprise before I focused on the message. "In his office."

"What," I murmured softly, before clearing my throat. "Why?"

"Don't know," The Durmstrang tossed a muscled shoulder back. "He wanted us to give you the message. He wants you in. Now."

I cursed inwardly, as my stomach gnawed at me. I was desperately looking forward to breakfast. Offering the Durmstrang a nod, I made my way out of the common room and quickened my pace, deftly turning to the opposite hallway than the one that led to the Grand Hall before I could regret it. I started regretting it instantly.

What was so important that Agilbert Fontaine couldn't wait until I had eaten? I caught myself at that thought. I was not a regular visitor to the Ilvermorny headmaster's office. The only time I had spoken to the wizard had been the night Toussaint was taken and he had gathered the delegates and Huntlock participants in the Grand Hall. So perhaps, I should be a little more grave about this, but in all honesty, my empty stomach would not have me be grave about anything else but the possibility of acquiring some food.

The Ilvermorny headmaster's office entrance was almost as big as the Grand Hall's. Two thin gilded doors that face the western courtyard of the castle. I hurried up to the doors, and brought my fist in to knock thrice, suddenly feeling very foolish comparing the size of my fist to the vast length of the doors.

The doors opened slowly inwards, and I caught myself from stepping back. Agilbert Fontaine's office was unlike Madame Maxime's in every possible way. His walls looked as though they were constructed of gold—a stark contrast to the gray-black bricks that formed every wall of the Ilvermorny castle outside. Light danced in the room, reflecting yellow off the walls and the ground—a similar chrome gold. Only the furniture was clearly of wood, and the shelves, and perhaps the minimalist centerpieces the headmaster had strewn about.

"Miss Dominique Marie Lavigne," The announcement caught my attention, and my eyes met those of Agilbert Fontaine's, behind his half moon spectacles.

He had stood up from behind his dark wood oak desk, as he watched me enter. I was about to conclude that there was no one else in his office, but then I spotted the unmistakable figure of Viktor Krum, as he too pushed back a chair facing the headmaster's desk, and stood up, his eyes meeting mine.

I did not let my surprise show on my face, knowing that that was what he was expecting to see with his dramatic delay in making his presence known. His features were schooled to stoicism, though his eyes burned between a glare and scrutiny—but of course there was nothing on my uniform or on my face.

There was a tin red cut over his cheekbone, as though a knife tip had brushed past. I wondered how many other bruises he sported, courtesy of my acolytes. I wondered what he would tell of the one of his face, to anyone who asked.

"I am glad you could join us, please take a seat," The headmaster motioned to the empty chair in front of his desk, the one to Krum's left.

"Of course," I found myself obliging, approaching his desk and taking the chair.

The mere act of dragging it a bit back and then seating myself, before scooting it back in was unspeakably awkward, and I found myself worrying the entire time over the antics of my wailing stomach.

"Now," Agilbert Fontaine brought his hands together as he sat himself too, Krum following suit. "You both must be wondering why I have called you here, and I don't intend to keep you guessing for long."

"I am the headmaster of Ilvermorny, and have been so for nearly ten years now," The wizard began, a thick ringed hand stroking his short beard streaked with silver and red. "Never have I ever, under my strict scrutiny, faced students leaving school grounds to traipse over countries and then returning without my knowledge. All under my very nose."

I stilled, panic swirling in my chest. Did he know of us leaving for the Austrian alps? For Nurmengard? Did he know about Grindelwald? About me? I choked down the urge to exchange glances with Viktor Krum, suddenly fearful that the Durmstrang might have snitched. But why would he? Along with exposing my agenda he would have had to recount the tale of him and a fellow Durmstrang being chased back by Grindelwald's acolytes. Igor Karkaroff, Krum's cherished headmaster, would not appreciate that. Would he go as far as to embarrass himself just to see me put down?

"I am of course talking about your trip to Germany," Headmaster Fontaine added when neither Krum nor I had spoken.

As a result of the clarification, I heard Krum release a small audible breath beside me. So he hadn't spoken of anything. He had been just as tense as I was.

"Headmaster Fontaine," I spoke up, taking the cue. Hadn't we already had this conversation before? I fought back an urge to groan. "That was a huge mistake. It will not happen again. As a delegate of Beauxbatons, I am ashamed to have committed such a—"

"Now, dear," The wizard interrupted me, a twinkle in his eyes. "We have moved past that."

"The reason I brought that up is because I am in desperate need of such stealth, and I require it mainly from the two of you."

"Do you need something done, headmaster?" Krum articulated, his thick voice as strong as it had ever been. I suddenly realized that I had missed it—missed the surety and determination with which he spoke.

"Yes," Agilbert Fontaine admitted, the twinkle in his eyes suddenly turning grave. "You both must be, I'm sure, aware of the political and technical situation of the wizarding world at present. I speak, of course, of the claims and of those who believe them."

You speak of yourself too, I bit back the words.

"Whether you believe that a dark wizard has returned, or not, does not matter in face of precaution. Do you both agree that precaution is a necessary feat regardless?"

He looked expectantly between us, and I swallowed, nodding once. Krum followed suit. Where was the old wizard going with this?

"I trusted that we would agree," The man spoke, satisfied. "Which is why I have extricated both of you from the Huntlock tournament."

"What?" Viktor Krum blurted out, disbelief etched in his tone as he leaned forwards, eyes firm. "Why, headmaster? You already gave us the punishment. Two whole days without practice—"

"This isn't a punishment, boy," Headmaster Fontaine turned his amber eyes towards Krum, pinning him down. "I have an assignment for you both, and accompanied by some of your peers from your delegations, you will be working on it throughout the Huntlock tournament."

"So we won't participate? You're pulling us out?" I let out, shocked.

Madame Maxime would be furious, and what of Professor Basil? He had trained me so hard, he would wallow in his anger, and Gabriel Chevrolet would turn on me—an attempted murder he would no sooner know how to execute.

"Your names will be participating," The headmaster continued, pushing his agitation back at our outbursts and refusal to patiently listen. "Some of the students of Ilvermorny will be participating under your names and in your uniforms, in the tournament. But you yourselves will not be."

"An illusion?" I swallowed. "What is this assignment that you can't afford to expose?"

The headmaster's lips lifted in a faint smile, as if suddenly proud of receiving the straightforward question that he was hoping to receive. Pushing his chair back slightly, the wizard opened a drawer in his desk and pulled out a large piece of parchment.

Then fixing his half moon shaped glasses upwards, he began to read off the paper.

"Dominique Marie Lavigne, Viktor Krum, Zubair Dimitrova, Bridgette Monet, Elias Dupont, Yordanka Hristova, Gabriel Chevrolet, and Oliver Wood."

The headmaster paused, folding the parchment back and slowly putting it back in the drawer and closing it. Then, he met our eyes.

"The eight students mentioned," Agilbert Fontaine added, his tone firm, as if to ward off any post negotiations on the matter. "Led by you both, will be sent to Hogwarts by a train early on the morning of the first Huntlock."

"But that is the day after tomorrow," Krum sputtered, and his shock mirrored mine so much, only mine had rendered me speechless.

"Hogwarts? Why?" I let out, not caring if my voice was an octave higher.

"You have been given the assignment of the procurement of the two deathly hallows, the invisibility cloak and the resurrection stone."

I gasped, something akin to a strange panic hitting me. Of course, if The Elder Wand existed, the rest of the deathly hallows did too. But they never crossed my mind, they hadn't crossed Gregorovitch's mind too when he had put me on the task of finding The Elder Wand. Grindelwald didn't mention them either. Why had I assumed they didn't matter just because nobody spoke of them? Of course they did. They had to matter. Did they matter to Voldemort too? Or was he overlooking them in his folly like I had been doing?

"You will be attending The Lock Ball tomorrow night, and the next morning your train to Hogwarts will be waiting to take you."

"But—Head master Fontaine," Viktor Krum blurted out, "The deathly hallows, they—"

"Are necessary to ensure our survival if the threats that reach our ears are proven to be true," The Ilvermorny headmaster affirmed, and I didn't think he quite answered what Krum had meant to say.

"The wand, headmaster?" The Durmstrang spoke up next. "What of The Elder Wand?"

I could sense that he had asked it as a jab at me. He wanted to know if I had it—if I had managed to acquire it by trapping him like I did. And that jab had become necessary when the headmaster had left the wand out of his given assignment.

"We already have the wand," The reply came, and I steeled my face, trying not to betray anything I felt. "It is the rest of the deathly hallows that we need, and you both are going to find them and bring them to me."

Fury pinched at me suddenly, the way that he had phrased his words, as though the deathly hallows belonged to him. As though The Elder Wand belonged in Dumbledore's hold. The deathly hallows belonged to no one. And Dumbledore was going to lose the most important hallow to Voldemort if I didn't step in first and take it first.

But I was being sent away to Hogwarts, while Albus Dumbledore would be here. Panic and irritation grated at me, and I wanted to lash out at Agilbert Fontaine's face.

"But isn't the headmaster of Hogwarts here?" I managed, reining in my composure and keeping my fury at bay.

"Albus Dumbledore will not be joining the Huntlock tournament excitement," The wizard responded, stroking his beard again. "He has some work to take care of, so he will be returning to his school with you, and some of his students—as he tells me. It appears he had withdrawn some Hogwarts students from the tournament. So you see, you will have quite a merry party escorting you to Hogwarts."

I bit back my relief. Albus Dumbledore would be coming along, The Elder Wand would be coming along. If Agilbert Fontaine wanted the remaining two deathly hallows, then those will be what he gets. The Elder Wand was no one else's to be won, but mine. If I had to save it from Voldemort by making it mine, then that was what I would do.

"Withdrawn students from the tournament?" Viktor Krum spoke with distaste in his tone, and I looked at him, to find the same distaste on his face as he met the headmaster's eyes.

"You will replace them too, will you not? Has the Huntlock turned into a joke this year? What would your esteemed shadows think?"

Of course, he was talking about les dorés. The Durmstrang was right, what would they think? The tournament was to honor them, was it not? What kind of honor was this when they were only setting up an illusion for them to believe?

"Yes, I will have their empty spots filled," The headmaster pressed his ringed hands together. "And the turn the tournament has taken may seem like a joke to you, Master Krum, but for us it has switched into a fight for survival. A fight to keep the balance and have our feet firmly in the ground. A fight to ensure that all that some of us dread in this moment, does not happen. A fight to ensure that Ilvermorny keeps its patron shadows honored while it prepares for a fight that may or may not come."

"I wanted to talk to you both first and separately, before I summon your peers and inform them as well," The Ilvermorny headmaster straightened himself, amber eyes bearing into ours.

"They will be given strict instructions to follow your leads, and only you both will be answerable to me. I will keep you updated if I have something else to add. As of now, you both are dismissed." 

***

A/N:
This chapter was 7k words, so far the longest chapter I've written for dulcet destruction I believe. I hope you liked it! please vote and comment, it inspires me to work on this! <3 also, we're going to Hogwarts now with this unorthodox gang and I'm feeling nostalgic about it ahh.