CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE

THE HOGWARTS LIBRARY WAS QUIET in its vastness. The dark shelves gathering dust and sporting spines that once used to be gilded golden, silver and copper. Shades of leather bound books were everywhere in my periphery, where Ilvermorny's library sported color, Hogwarts did not seem to take such liberties.

We had arrived a few hours ago, and while everyone else had made their way to their designated dorms to retire in a brief span of exhaustion, I had found my feet taking me to the library. Albus Dumbledore had watched me, an unfathomable sparkle in his eye as I had inquired of the directions to the library when he had just explained the directions to our assigned dorms for the duration of our stay.

I didn't care for his wordless looks. The seemingly suggestive looks that entailed his mind was at work deciphering everything, even if his lips would not part way to speak of it.

The Hogwarts castle was wide, and less daunting in a way than Ilvermorny had been. Hogwarts was what it was, heights and turrets made of deep dark brick making it stand out amidst the lush green plains behind it and the glimmering lake at its feet.

Ilvermorny had been shrouded in a heavy mist, its inexplicable daunt was cloaked in the fact that it had chosen to hide itself. Hogwarts had not.

I traced my fingertips softly on the spines as I passed shelves by, my eyes trained to look for the words deathly hallows on whichever shelf I was to stumble upon them on. I intended to get the assignment over with, but more than that, I intended to find out the reasons behind the urgency and demand for it that Fontaine so clearly harbored. The Resurrection stone and the Invisibility cloak. What use were they to a dark wizard who had already been resurrected and had death eaters to do his dirty work of listening at doors, amongst other work, for him?

There was no librarian at my disposal, no one for me to reach out to in case I might need the assistance. Dumbledore had known I was headed here, yet he had given me the directions and no information that the designated librarian might not be there. He had instead extended the courtesy of having a ragged and hunched old man—who was more frail and bothered than he was hunched—escort me to the library.

The man in question, now stood at the entrance waiting on me, a veiny hand holding a lit lantern up high, though it wasn't even 2pm yet and the morning light was pouring in from every available window, making the dust flakes dance in their given spotlight.

I turned my eyes away from the man with his stringy long hair, permanent scowl and small dark eyes fixed on me. I could tell he was a squib—his likeness to muggle energy was like a scent in the air around him, too obvious for me to miss.

Suddenly my eyes found what they were looking for, but I had passed it by. Backtracking, I grabbed the spine of the book that had caught my attention.

"The Deathly Hallows; An Insight Into The Tale."

It was a worn leather bound book, and I could feel the dust on my palm from the contact of it, making me quickly sweep aside the inconvenience with the backside of a fist. Spotting a seating table in the distance, I hurried over to it, pulling a chair and seating myself down as I yanked the cover open to the contents, fingertip desperately looking for an opening.

I spent a good part of an hour scouring the book, looking for something beyond what I already knew of the deathly hallows from Beedle The Bard's tale and my own knowledge. But the book I had just picked off the shelf was more interested in the symbolism of each of the hallows, aligning the energies of the three magical objects with constellations in the sky and while that did make sense if I sat and thought about it—I really didn't want to make it that deep.

I exhaled in frustration, slamming the book shut.

"You won't find what you're looking for in books."

The sudden familiar voice startled me, and instinctively, I turned my face to find the figure of none other than Aurelius Dumbledore's form clothed in his usual dark attire, standing at a distance, his arms hidden from view pinned at his back like he always kept them. The light of the sun pouring in from the high windows of the library painted the twenty six year old wizard in all the attractiveness of a man women write about in books.

The sun light cast shadows on his face, defining his cheekbones, and lighting up his dark shoulder length hair. Why had I never seen him in this light before?

"Dominique," He spoke when I hadn't responded.

"Aurelius," I uttered, blinking as my composure returned. "Que faites-vous ici?"

My surprise perhaps also stemmed from the fact that I had believed I wouldn't cross paths with him again, but it seemed the former Barebone had other ideas.

The wizard shrugged, a casual gesture that looked foreign on his uptight demeanor.

"I'm allowed at Hogwarts," He said simply. "My uncle runs this place."

I turned my eyes away, glancing briefly at the book that had turned out disappointingly not what I was looking for.

"Of course."

I opened the cover again, just to have something to do until he ventured away, since there was no point in this conversation.

"As I said, you won't find what you're looking for in books," The younger Dumbledore spoke once again.

"I heard you the first time," I met his eyes. "I didn't respond because I don't much care for that thought. You can find everything you need and more, in books."

A hint of a smile played on his lips. "That's not what I meant."

"What, then?" I rested my elbows on the table top, intertwining my fingers under my chin.

"You are looking for the two deathly hallows, and one of them is right under your nose," He ventured close, pale fingers taking hold of the wooden chair beside me and pulling at it. "If you would only look."

He sat himself down at a respectable distance, long legs apart as his knees stood higher than my crossed ones.

"How do you know that we—," I broke off, exhaling. "Are you spying on me?"

"No," He shook his head in haste. "That's not what I—"

"What, do you still think I'm up to something with the acolytes?" I narrowed my eyes, frustration seeping into me. "Didn't I say that it was over? Didn't I tell you that I killed my great uncle? That The Elder Wand is with your uncle?"

I thought back to that night, when in Nurmengard I had let him and Bridgette know that Grindelwald was dead. The former Barebone had turned paler than he was, but he had said nothing to me since. I had imagined he would be relieved. I had imagined he would bar his suspicions against me.

"I know Dominique, that's not what I'm doing here," He hissed, eyes darkening slightly.

"Alors qu'est-ce que tu fais?"

"I want to help you," He swallowed, his Adam's apple bobbing, eyes hesitant now. "In anything you might need help with."

My brows furrowed, and I let out a scoff. "One would imagine you'd have had your fill working for Grindelwalds."

"But you aren't like Grindelwald, are you?"

"And what if I was?" I pressed, my tone hard. "What if I tell you I am?"

He leaned back in his chair, eyes fixed on me. "You are not."

I wanted to know then what he would think when he knew that I planned to get The Elder Wand from his beloved uncle. He imagined, like others, that the wand would be safe with him. What would the former Barebone say if he found out that the beloved Albus Dumbledore's time was ticking?

"You're a horrible judge of character," I uttered. "You painted Grindelwald out to be some vicious leech who would pounce on me once I entered his cell. Yet the creature I found was entirely tamed."

Aurelius briefly raised his brows in a manner of dismissal. "Tamed enough to let his great niece kill him."

Yes, the former Barebone didn't know my great uncle had asked for it, unlike Bridgette and Viktor Krum knew. I wanted it to remain that way. A sick kind of hurt would envelop me otherwise, if I let a man who had betrayed Grindelwald know that the dark wizard had begged to die by my hand—begged to die at all.

"Say what you have to say and leave," I sharpened my eyes on him. "I want nothing to do with you, former Barebone. Tu peux sortir de ma vie maintenant. Life isn't some type of mirror that you wish to replicate by offering me your hand like you did once to Grindelwald."

The wizard furrowed his brows, before leaning in, elbows on his knees. "So that is what you think? You think I'm unreliable—that I'll just pick up and leave whenever I want to."

"I think you're an opportunist," I asserted. "Either you seek to control me, or you seek to shelter yourself because you know Voldemort is coming and my magic is your best chance. But yes, the point you made also suffices."

"Your magic is everyone's best chance," He narrowed his eyes. "But nobody knows it yet."

"Tell me where the two deathly hallows are," I hissed, "I have no appetite for your save the world bullshit. You of all people should think of yourself first, that squid waiting on me has a much better chance to defend himself against Voldemort than you do."

Aurelius Dumbledore's jaw tightened. "Dominique, don't be like that. I told you it won't happen again. None of it. I won't walk out on you, and I won't ever do what I was—"

He broke off, referring to the Austrian Alps when he had raised a hand, his fury translating itself into physical violence against Bridgette. I shuddered to think what would've occurred if I had not been quick enough to stop him.

"Do what?"

Another familiar voice erupted in my periphery, and I turned to look at the figure of Viktor Krum approaching, his jaw set, eyes darkened at Aurelius. My heart skipped at the sight of him. He was supposed to be resting like everyone else—the train ride had been chaotic and long, my own muscles screamed at me—yet he had chosen to seek me out.

"What did you fucking do?" The Durmstrang asked, approaching my side.

The former Barebone looked startled. He knew Viktor Krum—he knew how I had been trying to keep everything away from him, he knew how I was trying to escape his threats. But that had changed now, and the Dumbledore didn't know that yet.

"Is this the help Bridgette referred to?" Krum turned to me, his eyes still firm. "The help that took you both to Nurmengard?"

"Aurelius Dumbledore, and I assure you," The former Barebone uttered. "It was all Dominique."

"I know that," Krum snapped at him. "I know that now. What I asked you, I believe, was what you fucking did there that you are now so regretful for." 

Aurelius glanced at me, confusion settling over him like debris in water.

"Viktor," I looked at him. "Let it go—I'll explain later."

He met my eyes, firmness clear in them and I sighed. "Aurelius lost his temper at one point, he almost hit Bridgette."

"It was a mistake," The wizard blurted. "It was unlike me. It will never happen again."

"No," The Durmstrang exhaled, eyes pinning the wizard down. "It will never happen again because you are going to stay away from both Dominique and Bridgette."

The former Credence Barebone scoffed. "I want nothing to do with that girl."

"And Dominique?" Krum pressed, a vein jutting in his jaw. "What the fuck do you have to do with her? You put in some meager effort to take her to Nurmengard, that was all. Why haven't you fucked off yet?"

"I know who you are, Dumbledore," The Bulgarian seeker continued, eyes fierce. "Kin of Albus Dumbledore's, considering your past, I could get you behind bars if I stirred up a fake controversy about you. One rumor and Albus would have you put in himself."

I stilled, realizing suddenly that Krum had acquired the information on Aurelius on his own accord. The Dumbledore's track record had been in newspapers eight years ago, but ever since then it had died down and thrusted itself into the shadows. Either the Durmstrang had dug deep, or he had been told the information.

"Wow," Aurelius exhaled, a laugh punctuating his word. His eyes turned to me. "So you decided to give in to the infamous Viktor Krum after all. Good for you."

He seemed wretched, conflicted, as he tried to maintain his nonchalance, but it was too tight to be so—too tense.

"Yeah, that's right," Viktor nodded angrily. "Good for her she has someone to ward off fuckers like you before they replicate."

"Stand down, Durmstrang," Aurelius' jaw tightened again. "I only want to help her."

"Tell me where the two deathly hallows are," I broke in, my hand reaching out to touch Viktor's elbow as I felt tension slightly seep out of his muscles under the contact.

The former Credence Barebone sighed, as though he hadn't yet gotten quite what he had come for. I felt the confusion churn inside me. What exactly did he want from me? He wanted to help me so that he could ask for something in return, I could tell. But what did he have to ask that he cannot get from elsewhere?

"The Resurrection stone has been hidden in the dormant chamber of secrets, the entrance to which your friend Harry Potter will know—since he has accessed it before," The wizard spoke plainly, fervor having gone from his voice. "And the Invisibility cloak? That he may know of as well." 

With that, Aurelius Dumbledore turned on his heels and walked away towards the exit of the library, where the squid narrowed his eyes further at the sight of him, reluctantly stepping side to make room at the exit as the Dumbledore sauntered past without paying him much heed.

"Fucker," Krum breathed under his breath, before turning to me. "Tell me you're not going to associate with him anymore. You don't need whatever he has to offer, do you?"

I shook my head. The former Barebone held no sway over the acolytes anymore. Flora Fischer's hatred of him had been clear—all the other acolytes would likely harbor the same feelings. Besides, the wizard was weak, his Obscurus hung from his neck like a ticking clock that was perhaps more unreliable than Albus Dumbledore's himself. He was of no use to me.

"He just offered up the only thing." I cupped my elbow. "The two deathly hallows that we need." 

"Harry Potter," The Durmstrang spoke the name, as though tasting it, considering it through a new lens.

"How did you know about Aurelius?" I asked softly, "About his past?" 

"My grandfather," Krum sighed, touching the back of his neck. "He was very active. Read into things a lot. Knew stuff." 

I nodded. "We almost have the two hallows in the bag now, it can be done and over with." 

"But first," I met Viktor's eyes. "If you're not too tired, come with me to see Gregorovitch?"

He blinked in surprise, before a slow smile spread on his face.

─── ☾ ───

The leaves and twigs crunched under our feet, a soft crushing sound that my bones seemed to relish. The sky overhead the scant forest was dipped in the first throes of the sun set, and it made me realize how far into the time I had translocated us. It was here that Angus was keeping Gregorovitch, I could sense Angus' presence as though he was a part of me—a thread that pulsated in my periphery, calling me towards it.

My left palm throbbed slightly, an old wound I had closed up, an opening where Angus had licked off my blood. Following the old visions Angus had sent to me at Ilvermorny of the hiding place like fractured memories, I led us past a clearing between the trees. The forest ended there, giving way to a lush view of grassy plains embedded on round hills.

A single round hill in the distance sported a cottage and the thread pulling me towards it tightened its hold.

"Angus," I murmured inside my head, putting pressure on the thought of him, further tightening the thread between us.

The visions came to me then, like a waterfall had unleashed itself behind my eyes—like my eyes were no longer my own. I saw the cottage from the inside, I saw the old wandmaker hunched over a quaint stove humming a melody with his gray hair in disarray but his clothes pristine. Then I saw myself and Krum out a glass window from inside the cottage—our forms like tiny ants standing side by side in the distance with the forest behind us.

"Angus, come to me," I spoke again, grateful to be behind his eyes but not inside his head.

He returned my own vision back to me, and before I could properly register coming back to my own senses, I saw his form right in front of me. His furry body protruding out of the dirty clothes he wore as he stood on his two feet, his humongous form broad against the backdrop of lush green plains, his comprehending—daunting wolf-like face vicious as it looked right at me tilted slightly downwards.

The sight of him was comforting in a way I couldn't have ever imagined. This was a creature who had given me his trust and loyalty willingly and I hadn't had to fight for it like I had to with everyone in my life. I hadn't had to prove myself to him in any way. I just was, and he submitted to me because of it. 

I met his pools of cream, slightly glassy, the skin at the corner of his eyes was wet. I swallowed suddenly, realizing that while he had been keeping Gregorovitch safe here, here was not somewhere this les dorés was habitual of. Angus was a creature of the shadows and the dwarf Fischers had kept him so for most of his life—molded in a state of constant mist in a dark basement of their house in Hamburg, Germany. So much so that he probably wasn't familiar with the sun at all. 

"I'm sorry Angus," I breathed, a sudden pain in my heart tugging my tongue loose. 

I felt Viktor Krum's eyes on me then. He had clamped his mouth shut, though I could tell the questions brimming inside of him. He didn't know Angus, but he would now.

Angus lowered his head, his dark ashy gray fur strangely reminding me of Ilvermorny's snow covered Greylock mountains. He tilted his head slightly, his mouth barely parting as he spoke his piece.

"You must not apologize to me for anything, my lady."

His voice was the same heavy whispery thing I remembered, daunting enough to send a chill rattling down my spine, but firm enough to trust.

"How is Gregorovitch?" I swallowed thickly, gathering my composure. "I trust you have not had any problems?"

"No, my lady," Angus responded, a thick furry hand moving to his dirty clothed thigh as he scratched it with his giant paw briefly. "I have not. The old wizard is in the cottage, making tea for himself and—"

The creature cut off hesitantly. The hesitancy was the barest thing and I realized I would've missed it entirely if I hadn't paid attention. Just like that brief scratch using his furry hand. Human—alive things that were so out of place on him, yet they fit, somehow and in some way that I couldn't name.

"And for you," I finished for him, a corner of my lip tugging upwards of its own accord.

"He insisted, my lady," The Halmasti Jinn spoke again, words etched in gentle haste. "Refusal doesn't register on the old wizard."

"Regardless," I waved a hand dismissively. "Do you drink tea, Angus?"

The giant creature shifted on his feet, unsure of how to answer.

"I'm sure you do," I smiled fully. "If not, I'm sure you'll remedy that today for me."

Then I turned to Viktor, my heart lifting further to find a new relaxed expression on his face marred with curious intrigue as he gazed at Angus—anthracite eyes fixed and a smile tugging on his own lips.

"Viktor, meet Angus," I made the introduction, extending a hand to gesture where required.

"Angus," I turned to the creature. "This is Viktor Krum."

The Halmasti Jinn stood unsure of how to react, his whirlpool of cream eyes fixing themselves finally on Krum as he registered my words. It was as if he had finally been given permission to access the elephant in the room, and now his scrutiny was at work.

"Is Viktor Krum a friend of Dominique Marie Grindelwald?" Angus finally uttered, his tone firm, distrusting as he waited for a signal to believe otherwise.

"Yes," I glanced at Krum, eyeing him with a frown as the Durmstrang's expression changed to that of protest.

"Viktor Krum is a friend," I turned to Angus, pinning a smile to my face.

Slowly the creature nodded his head. A single nod, glassy cream eyes moving from Krum to me.

"Take us to Gregorovitch, Angus," I said.

The cottage was swirling with the warm intricate scent of tea and pine. It was a rustic, quaint space. Not quite in the proper and presentable sense that the wandmaker's own cottage back in Hamburg, Germany had been, but it looked as though it was headed that way. In the rustic kitchen of dark wood, ceramic cups and saucers washed themselves efficiently. A quilted tablecloth of soft green embroidered with hasty attempts of white threaded wildflowers was spread on the table unevenly.

A fire burned and crackled in the small hearth of the fireplace beside the table, two wooden chairs facing it.

"It's you," A startled voice blurted out as footsteps scurried towards us.

I turned from my examination of the cottage to face the German wandmaker. His eyes were curious and bright, and the weariness in his aged features that I was familiar with was no longer there. His skin glowed a softer color, and his white streaked hair appeared brighter in this daylight.

"And you," The old wandmaker turned to look at Viktor Krum, eyes flashing recognition, as the Durmstrang beamed in response.

"Mr Gregorovitch," I started. "How are you?"

The wizard scoffed, a genuine happiness emanating from the gesture. "How am I? I've been good—great really."

"Gregorovitch," Krum spoke, a sudden tenderness in his tone as he addressed the wandmaker, but the old man interrupted effortlessly.

"Did you know that you can make mushroom tea?" The wizard laughed. "Who would've thought mushrooms would taste so good in a drink?"

"You must sit, dears," The wandmaker gestured to the table hastily. "I am making some mushroom tea right now. I'll bring out two more cups."

"What a party today, so exciting," The man hurried off muttering excitedly to himself as Krum and I exchanged a small laugh and sat ourselves down on the chairs.

I glanced outside the small glass window of the cottage and saw Angus's dark form outside, with his back to the house as he stared out in the distance, his height so towering, almost blocking out the sun.

"Here you are," Gregorovitch had hurried back with a steaming ceramic teapot and matching cups as he set them down on the table.

Four cups, for two guests, one friend, and one for himself.

"It was Angus' idea really," The wandmaker blabbered on as he poured. "We went mushroom picking and I suggested that one would taste so good in a drink and he proposed the idea of adding them to tea. A hot beverage melted the mushroom's taste exceedingly fine as you will see in a moment. Angus is brilliant."

I met Krum's eyes as he reached a hand under the table and touched my thigh, squeezing gently and stroking over the material of my Beauxbatons uniform skirts with his thumb. I sensed the relief in him, the gratitude, and the guilt. He had spent so long distrusting me with Gregorovitch and everything else that I imagined he must now feel conflicted. In what way exactly, I couldn't tell.

"You have grown close with Angus?" I posed the question, and realized how unlikely the idea still seemed to me. When I had made Angus take Gregorovitch away, I hadn't imagined this at all.

"We're good friends," The wandmaker stirred his tea cup proudly. "He's quite reliable."

I glanced out the window. "That he is."

"I would rather have tea than the finest of wines, don't you resonate? Speaking of teas and wines, did you know.." The wandmaker started talking again, rambling about different kinds of mushrooms and how he had to test most of them out in his tea first before deciding which kind was the perfect mix.

"Dominique," Viktor squeezed my thing again. His eyes earnest in mine as he gave me a nod.

It was time. I had almost forgotten the reason I had come here, and suddenly being reminded of it was disheartening. The Gregorovitch with his memories was full of woe. He had gone through torture at Grindelwald's hand and was forced to make my wand. I didn't know what he thought of me, for I certainly would find it hard to warm up to the kin of someone who misused me. The Gregorovitch without his memories was this. Someone who didn't question Angus' background before befriending him, someone who spent evenings testing out different mushrooms with his tea without a care in the world. Was it better sometimes, to be like this? Was this better than what had been before?

I still had to do it. Of all things I was, I refused to be a memory thief. I had kept the old wandmaker's memories for safekeeping, without intruding on them, without disturbing his privacy. It was now time to give them back, and I would show up for it.

I got off my chair and walked over to Gregorovitch's side.

"What is the matter dear?" The old man inquired, sparkling eyes confused. "Has your tea gone cold? I can reheat it up if you would like."

The wizard was seated and he made to get up, but I shook my head and ushered him to remain seated. Then, like a wayward fortune traveler and palm reader with rug sacks full of mysticism and miscellaneous props, I got on both my knees in front of the old wizard and placed both my hands on top of his veiny ones. I moved both his hands onto his lap, and shut my eyes tight, holding onto him.

Giving someone their memories back was a feeling of relief that cascaded through your bones like an ocean you were sprawled inside had just spit you out. It was light and heavy at the same time. It was cold and ice, it was the water weighing you down turning into mist. But most of all, I realized how a lifetime's worth of memories could be stored so compactly inside of me without taking up the entirety of the space. How someone's entire life was still much too small for my head.

A cold burning sensation washed over me when I was done, and I quickly opened my eyes, removing my hands from over the wandmaker's. The wizard's eyes were still closed, eyelids moving as his eyeballs trembled.

I got on my feet and slowly stepped away from him.

Krum had stood up as well, a firm determination on his face as he observed Gregorovitch with me, his throat moving in the aftermath of an anxious swallow.

Then, the German wandmaker's eyes fluttered open, and met mine first before they ventured onto Krum's. There was a bewilderment in his light eyes, before recognition flashed in with a variety of different emotions I couldn't place.

"Mr Gregorovitch," I started, clasping my hands together at the base of my stomach, keeping my voice firm. "I took your memories. I have now returned them to you."

The wandmaker looked at me briefly, an unreadable look on his face before he glanced at Krum again. "Viktor Krum."

The old man let out a shocking laugh of relief, and he got up off his chair, disregarding me and walked over to Viktor and enveloped him in an embrace. I thought back to all the times Viktor had expressed his urgency for Gregorovitch. They were practically family. The old wandmaker knew Krum's grandfather. Of course this would turn out this way. I was just some witch who's great uncle had marred a period of the wandmaker's life in darkness.

"Glad to have you back," Krum spoke to the man, patting his back once. He had been saying something else to the wizard before, but I hadn't heard it.

"Glad to be back," The wizard nodded, the two exchanging smiles born of memories and relationships I had never been a part of.

They parted from the embrace, and the wandmaker turned to look at me, the smile slowly diminishing from his face.

"Your great uncle told me your name," The wizard's voice was slightly hoarse, as though guilt and hesitancy had made it so. "But I seem to remember everything else he said about you except that."

"My name is Dominique," I managed, suddenly feeling odd and out of place.

"What you did, girl," The wizard sighed, approaching his chair and seating himself, the tea he had made just moments ago and was so proud of was now long forgotten. "I do not know what words to use and what to say."

"You don't need to say anything," I swallowed. "What I did was cruel, I know that. But I had no other options at that moment. I couldn't ask for your consent."

"My consent did not matter at that point," The old man shook his head. "What you did was the course of action only those of the best would have taken. You saved The Elder Wand from He Who Must Not Be Named. You saved me the humiliation and worthlessness of having a hand in the disruption of the wizarding world."

"But most of all," The wandmaker blinked, his eyes earnest. "You offered a mad old man protection. You offered him a sanctuary and a period away from all his troubles. You offered me peace."

I didn't know what to say. I didn't know whether to protest and tell him that no the wand that he sent me on the chase for was still not safe, but doing that felt cruel too. Doing that would mean me taking the little peace I had offered him away. Doing that would make me feel like I had thrusted him again into a vicious cycle, and then we would be back where we had started. I didn't want him to know anything now. I didn't want him under Voldemort's Legilimency again.

"Where is The Elder Wand?" The old wizard inquired then.

"It is safe," I exchanged a glance with Krum. "With the authorities."

"You shouldn't ask where," I added abruptly. "Knowing wouldn't help."

The wandmaker nodded in understanding. "As a token of my gratitude, should we enjoy tea together?"

"Of course," Viktor Krum smiled, his eyes meeting mine as I held back the wild Cornish pixies in my stomach. I didn't believe then that I would ever tire of his smile.

"You both go ahead," I offered, "I just need to speak to Angus for a moment."

Gregorovitch nodded, before muttering something about reheating the tea as he carried the teapot back towards the kitchen.

"Viktor," I seized the moment, approaching him and dropping my voice to a whisper as his eyes became firm in concern.

"Please don't tell him anything," I pleaded, "About Grindelwald, the wand or Voldemort—he doesn't need to know. It will steal his peace, and I can't bear him to be subject to Voldemort's Legilimency again. I cannot do all this all over again."

Viktor nodded, taking hold of my waist as he pulled me in an embrace, I wrapped my arms around his neck.

"You're right, I won't," He breathed into my ear, "He doesn't need to know."

Nodding, I broke away from the embrace as I heard Gregorovitch's footsteps. He set tea upon the table and made a cup for Angus. I took it and made my way outside, approaching the Halmasti Jinn's stagnant form with his eyes fixed on the landscape outside of the cottage.

"Angus," I acknowledged him, as he turned his wolf-like face slightly to look at me.

"I brought you some mushroom tea," I shrugged, holding the cup high.

It was tiny compared to the giant's vicious form, and Angus stared at it for a moment, before using his big hand to take the cup gently from my hold. His gray ashy fur brushed the skin at my hand briefly and I realized a still aura of cold emanating from him. It was his body adjusting to keep himself cool in this bright sunny atmosphere. His mouth parted and he tilted the entirety of the porcelain cup's contents inside, his thick tongues wiping his teeth clean before he shut his mouth again and held onto the tea cup.

"Your work here is done, Angus," I started, steeling my voice. "I have given Gregorovitch his memories back. I will send him back to Hamburg, and he can rebuild his house. He won't be needing your protection anymore."

Gregorovitch didn't know anything valuable for Voldemort anymore. Except for perhaps, my existence. Other than that, the old wandmaker's knowledge of the wand was outdated. He knew now that it was safe, but not with whom.

"As you say, my lady," The creature spoke with a single nod.

"But I still need you," I turned away from him to look at the lush green landscape. "I can't fully rely on the acolytes. They were loyal to my great uncle, they might not remain as loyal to me. I can't see if that won't happen, but it's a possibility."

"I won't ever harm you, Angus," I turned to face him again, my features contorted in a plea as I looked up into his pools of cream. "I do not know how the Fischers treated you, and if it was what I think it was, please remember that you can expect nothing of that sort from me."

"I know I enslaved you, just like them. And at that moment it was because I didn't know what else to do. Now I do realize that I really need you to be on my side."

I thought of the Halmasti at Ilvermorny. I thought of the creature's deep scars. I thought of his voice.

"It is only me facing him, not my brothers. So it is not a heavy burden to bear."

"I offer you my protection," I spoke the words. "With my magic, I will protect you. I just need you to stay loyal to me."

"I am loyal to you, my lady," Angus uttered. "You need not ask that of me again. I have taken your leadership in the form of your blood. I will never defy you."

I swallowed a thick emotion. "I will not keep you enslaved for long, Angus, I promise you. You will be free one day. I will not keep you away from your brothers for long."

The creature in front of me blinked, thick heavy eyelids briefly closing in on his glassy whirlpools of white.

I touched my hair, flipping it back from over my shoulder.

"You have a new task at present, Angus," I breathed, "You will go where you need to. Scour Britain if you have to. Stay in the shadows. I need the names and locations of important death eaters who do Voldemort's direct bidding."

"Bring that information to me at Hogwarts as soon as you can. It is time to put one death eater down to send another message."

Voldemort needed to be weakened, and what better way to do this than to take his hands away? After all, was that not how Grindelwald was also weakened? His top acolyte had packed up and walked out. But the lucky Voldemort's death eater will not be able to do either of those things.

"In the midst of that," I added, "I will summon you on the night I find myself facing The Elder Wand—if that night comes sooner than I expect. I will be the one dueling Albus Dumbledore, but I want you to be there. You will be my cover."

The creature's eyes were intent in mine, and I could make out the depths in the cream pools. He shifted his head and bowed it slightly, thick eyelids closing his vision.

"As you command, my lady." 

***

A/N:
okayy, updates may be slower from now onwards. I have exams coming up, ugh. But I hope you like this chapter!