CHAPTER THIRTY-FIVE

SOMETIMES THERE WAS NOTHING more humiliating to me than my own desires. When I had asked Krum who he would want to bring back from the grip of death, with the crystal Resurrection stone glinting something scarlet in the center of my palm, I had had the acute tension to take the thing for my own—to consume it suddenly, to have such a thing become a part of me.

Bringing back someone from the underworld was sinful—at least it seemed so. An act so vile and unholy that no matter the amount of love and grief it was done with, it would never be acceptable in front of any pious mortal or immortal eye. I had no one I wanted to bring back from the dead. Grindelwald's corpse was still fresh, his soul would still be at the brink of beginning its torture for his acts in the world—if such a thing was true.

Would I bring him back if I could? The answer was stark in me, and it was so abrupt, as though my brain had spent no amount of time dwelling on the intricacies of it. Yes. Yes, I would. But I won't, and that argument overpowered everything else. He would hate me, if I brought him back from the place he had begged to go to. And with his mark ingrained on my skin, I felt no humiliation in admitting that I didn't want his hate.

So, I had asked Viktor Krum to hold it. Willing for the deathly hallow to be kept away from me, though I wasn't sure if he could sense the intention.

"Strange how it had no protection," The Bulgarian seeker's voice interrupted my reverie, our feet tapping along the stone Hogwarts hallway as we headed to the Great Hall for dinner.

The castle was lit up by a cluster of burning logs held by iron casings along the walls at intervals, and the portraits adorning the walls buzzed and hummed with dazed conversations. I could hear muttered exclamations as Krum and I passed by, the words Durmstrang, Viktor Krum, Quidditch, and Beauxbatons, salient in the abrupt declarations.

Hours ago, when we had made our exit from the Girls' Bathroom after having extricated ourselves from the Chamber of Secrets with the annoyed form of Yordanka Hristova and a nonchalant Zubair Dimitrova at our heels, I had heard the words Huntlock and Ilvermorny in the same sentence from one of the portraits we had passed by.

Having grown accustomed to paying no heed to fruitless conversation emanating from portraits hung on castle walls, I felt myself turn to see who had spoken the words, only to find a grim looking old woman on a rocking chair staring intently at her crochet project crocheting itself in front of her face. She didn't look at me, but I could tell she knew she had my attention. I didn't know what exactly she had been saying, but a feeling in the pit of my stomach told me that it couldn't have been anything polite. It threw me off slightly, thinking of what she knew. The Huntlock champions were in Hogwarts, and that was not where they were supposed to be at present.

"Stupid really—how it was just lying there," Viktor Krum spoke again, a shrug playing on his muscular shoulders, his hands jammed into his trouser pockets.

We had all changed out of our uniforms, donning our casual clothes as Hogwarts was not in session at present and uniforms hadn't become mandatory just yet. With our distinct uniforms out of the way, his jeans and the cream knee high dress I had on almost painted us in a facade—making everything we were believable with no boundaries highlighting the different worlds we came from in the first place.

"You'd think there would've been a trap set in place," The Durmstrang continued his train of thought, his voice a pleasant baritone in the silent hallway, accented by our footsteps on the stone floor.

"You know, like an Egyptian pharaoh's tomb. A deadly trap set to protect the treasure. A gas explosion, one of the three curses, a false door—heck even dangerous creatures assigned as guards. But no, the chamber had nothing of that sort."

"I take it you aren't glad?" I threw him a look and he grinned at me.

"Not really. I came prepared though, and I was let down. It was almost like I was rooting for the Basilisk to resurrect itself, make it all challenging for us for however briefly I might have allowed it to."

"Well," I turned my eyes away from him. "I'm sorry our escapade in the Chamber of Secrets was such a disappointment to you."

Viktor laughed then, before instantly nearing me and throwing a hand around my waist, pulling me to his side as his head bent down to the side of my neck—breath hot against my skin. It was then that I didn't regret having put my hair up in a high ponytail.

"Not all of it," He breathed, as I giggled slightly with a furious blush, pushing him away playfully and jogging up to the entrance of the Great Hall.

Floating candles marred the air above our heads, sparks of yellow flames littered everywhere above—a stark contrast to the glinting silver and blue stars of the false night sky the Hall ceiling was disguised as. The space, composed of four long stretched tables, was washed with the translucent yellow gleam, reminding me of the Grand Hall of Ilvermorny only slightly.

I spotted Elias and Bridgette first, as the latter waved to me excitedly. They were seated in the middle of the third long table with a nonchalant Zubair Dimitrova, an annoyed Yordanka Hristova and a bored Gabriel Chevrolet. As I walked towards them, I spotted Oliver Wood in the distance, seated with the chatty forms of the ginger haired twins, Harry Potter and his two friends.

I caught Wood's eye, and offered him a small smile. It was his reciprocation that filled me with relief. Wood was different from his other Hogwarts peers in the way that he was more receptive, and I would much rather have him around than not at all.

Draco Malfoy and his companion, Blaise Zabini were seated at the furthest corner, the two separately engaging in dinner without the fellowship of their school peers. 

Bridgette tapped the spot on the table to her right, and I went around and seated myself next to her, with Krum taking up to my left. Elias sat a distance next to Chevrolet opposite us and the latter sat an arm's length away from Yordanka—the three of them looking like bullies who were forced to attend their plaything's birthday party.

It was then that I properly noticed the food that had been prepared for us, an assortment of dishes that I was surprised to find familiar as well as less so. Albus Dumbledore—I assumed—had made the effort of including staple French dishes and ones that I could only identify as Bulgarian ones, all mixed in with Britain's specials.

I couldn't remember the last time I had had a filling meal, it felt like I had only been stealing enough to get me by.

"So, you guys," Bridgette started, helping herself to her brimming plate. "Je pense que les félicitations sont de mise, we only have a single hallow left to find."

"That too on our first night," Dimitrova agreed, downing his orange drink. "At this rate, we'll be done by tomorrow and can take the train back to Ilvermorny."

"Yeah," Gabriel Chevrolet twisted his lips, annoyed at himself for agreeing with a Durmstrang, "Then I can fucking get back to what I came out there for."

"Are you serious?" Krum uttered at my side, his eyes narrowed on both his friend and Chevrolet. "The Huntlock is a joke, don't tell me you still want to partake in it. Fontaine has made it a fucking joke."

"I don't give a shit," Gabriel burst in, swallowing in frustration and taking to his drink. "I'm getting that trophy—or whatever it is that they're giving by the end of it, and I'm taking that home."

I sighed, helping myself to some chicken, stabbing chunks of it onto my fork. "If you're wanting to prove something to everyone back at Beauxbatons, there are other ways to do it, Chevrolet."

Gabriel eyed me, before his gaze fell to his plate, his jaw tight. "It's not about proving something, it's about fixing it all."

He looked at me again. "What the fuck do you think Madame Maxime will do when we get back? She was seething when we boarded the fucking express that brought us here. She wouldn't say a fucking word to either of us. You think she'll welcome us with open arms when we go back without having done what she wanted us to?"

I swallowed my bite, thinking of how the headmistress had gathered us all in her office at Beauxbatons, emphasized the nature of The Huntlock, and her desire for our win. Chevrolet was right, but I did not want to amidst that audibly.

"Karkaroff was barely accommodating too," Yordanka spoke up next, her dark eyes observing the luster in her greenish drink. "But he asked us to go get the job done. So there's that."

"Always a man of brief words, isn't he?" Dimitrova shook his head with an exhale.

"At least he won't welcome you with a letter explaining the details of your expulsion when you get back," Gabriel's dark eyes glinted in the yellow of the atmosphere, his dark hand rubbing over his head once.

"Alright," Elias furrowed his brows at his peer. "N'en faisons pas trop. Madame Maxime will not expel us. She's just haughty, and does not like her plans being thrown astray by others who match her temperament or status. I'm sure Fontaine will be charming her over as we speak."

"So what of the third hallow?" Bridgette spoke, in an attempt to lighten the conversation. "I mean, the sooner we get it, the sooner we get out, right?"

I exhaled silently. According to Aurelius Dumbledore, Harry Potter knew where the third deathly hallow was as well. I glanced in the distance where the Hogwarts students were sitting together in a group, eating. Harry Potter had a smile on his face in response to something the ginger haired twins were speedily talking of. When I had approached him to open The Chamber of Secrets for us, I had talked about only one hallow. His response to being privy to the chamber opening had been so unnerving that I did not want to ask him of the other hollow. 

Unlike the Resurrection stone, I knew Potter had the other hallow in his possession. Though, I wasn't so sure that he knew he did. The silvery transparent cloak he adorned every time he had snuck up on us, was the thing I needed. It may not be the Invisibility cloak, but it still was one, and I had no energy to be as thorough with this assignment. 

Bridgette was right, the sooner we managed to procure both of the hallows, the sooner we got to leave Hogwarts. But that was just it. I couldn't leave Hogwarts, not yet. I would not leave Hogwarts without having acquired The Elder Wand, and none of them could make me. The dilemma was not one at all, for its solution was as clear as glass to me. The last hallow would have to wait until I caught Albus Dumbledore at the disadvantage. And afterwards, when I had the wand and we had the last hallow, I would not be the one on the return train to Ilvermorny.

The thought struck me with sudden clarity then. What would I be after I had the wand? I wouldn't kill Dumbledore, only defeat him in a duel to win over the wand's allegiance. But I wouldn't be free then, would I? Dumbledore would not let it pass. I would be a wanted witch, a rogue Beauxbatons student newly destined to be behind bars. I would have to go on a run, to keep the wand hidden, away from Dumbledore, away from Voldemort. I would have to go on a run to protect myself. Because if I started to explain, would anyone listen?

But I had convinced Viktor hadn't I? Surely I still had a chance to explain myself. The real question was, would I take the challenge?

Viktor Krum spoke something then, effectively veering the topic away from the undiscovered deathly hallow and to the food that kept refilling the serving dishes when they got half empty. I glanced at him, his ebony irises meeting mine with a determined look. He was adamant that Aurelius Dumbledore's name need not be repeated. He had insisted earlier that nobody needed to know that it was him who had told us where the hallows were. I didn't necessarily have an opinion on it, because I really didn't care if the rest of our peers knew of the obscurial wizard, but Krum's determination was enough to make me comply.

As we ate, my eyes wandered to the enchanted ceiling of the Great Hall. The sky was a cacophony of glimmering stars that only seemed to glow brighter by the second. I wondered where Angus would be at present, his mighty form reduced to shadows casted by somebody else's feet, senses fixated on filthy death eaters, all on my command.

I felt Viktor's thick warm hand rest on my bare knee under the wooden table, his thumb stroking my skin softly as he spoke to Zubair Dimitrova, a grin playing on his lips as they talked about Quidditch. I furrowed my brows, confused on how they could bring up the sport amidst any conversation so effectively. To my surprise, Gabriel Chevrolet joined in the conversation, offering curt observations as the topic delved into Britain's take on the sport and their participation in the world cups.

Bridgette spoke to Elias about Beauxbatons, a light conversation about where the semester would've been headed presently if we were there, her arm snaking around Dimitrova's. It was then that I spotted Harry Potter and his friends getting up, their silver plates littered with crumbs as they made to retire.

I quickly got up, Viktor Krum's hand falling away in surprise.

"Harry," I called as the boy passed by our seats. "Can I have a word?"

Viktor shot me a confused look, but I merely gently squeezed his shoulder as I held onto him for support, stepping across the bench.

Harry said something to his friends then who hurried on ahead, the curly sable haired girl throwing him wary glances over her shoulder. Her eyes met mine briefly and the caution in them fueled amusement in me. Harry Potter was really the last person who needed to be cautious of me at present.

"Walk with me?" I offered as I spotted Draco Malfoy and Blaise Zabini's attentions turn towards us. Viktor was also looking, his confusion having morphed into a firm expression with his brows furrowed—not quite surprised, just mildly curious of how it all was to play out.

I picked up my pace, my heels tapping against the stone floors of the Great Hall as Harry Potter scurried on behind me. Once we were out, and embraced into the flickering shadows of the corridors outside, I slowed my pace giving the boy a chance to catch up, which he efficiently did.

"Is this about the Manor?" The boy asked then, his tone more resolved than I expected.

"Among other things, yes," I glanced at him carefully, our feet in slow motion, headed to no particular destination.

"Uh, how do you want to—" He broke off. "Should I make a rough map or something?"

"No," I couldn't help but let out a smile at his boyish obliviousness. "It's fine. Just think of the location, I'll take it from your thoughts."

"Oh," His voice fell. "Legilimency?"

I blinked, eyes narrowing on him. "No, I don't do that."

"Then what?"

I sighed, my eyes focused on the dark corridor pathway ahead, moonlight was pouring in a stream through glass windows lined at the wall to our left in intervals.

"Well, if you must know, it's my constellations," I said, suddenly remembering the last time I had used them, on a German boy in Hamburg. "I copy only what I want, make myself insusceptible to other things that you might have floating inside your head."

My magic was different like that, instead of cruelly seeing everything like in Legilimency, I saw only what I went in for.

To my surprise, the boy blushed crimson, a flush creeping up his neck. My brows furrowed, before I bit back a smile and shook my head slightly.

"Don't worry," I managed. "I ensure maximum privacy, and it won't hurt."

The humor died away in me then, a wind sweep dimming the light on my face like a weak candle as I remembered the kind of hurt Legilimency really brought.

"Heuristics isn't cruel then," Harry murmured, "At least not like our—normal magic."

I glanced at him thoughtfully. "Every kind of magic is cruel, Harry, it depends on how you use it."

I touched my elbow. "You know what I've done with my own, you of all people shouldn't believe that. You saw."

I couldn't imagine then what it would've felt like to see that bloodbath I had caused in Nurmengard. For a fourteen year old boy to see that in his mind's eye through the eyes of an evil wizard, was abhorrent to imagine.

"That doesn't count," He spoke then, voice laced with determination. "You did a good thing. There will be no mourners for an evil wizard, there should be none."

No mourners, I swallowed the words silently.

We walked in silence, before Harry Potter took charge and led me to the Hogwarts courtyard. It was moon washed, a silver hue covering the darks of the neatly maintained bushes and the cream stone floors.

"Is it alright if I have been practicing Occlumency?" The boy uttered as we stood in silence, my eyes fixed on the crescent moon hanging sharp in the sky like a glow scythe.

"I mean, I haven't been able to get it yet—at all really—but I've been trying. Will that affect anything?"

"No, it won't." I turned to look at him. "It isn't Legilimency, Harry. Anything that alters Legilimency won't affect this."

"So there's only one in seven billion chances that someone might still penetrate my mind if I master Occlumency?"

I blinked, surprised. "If that someone is me, then yes."

The boy turned away then. "Dumbledore is right then, isn't he? To pressure me into learning the stupid thing. I would rather keep the ratio one to seven billion."

"I could help you out with it sometime," I found myself speaking then, the words pouring out of me before I could stop them. When would I ever have the time to do such a thing for him?

"Really?" Potter spun around, his circular glasses catching the moonlight in a sparkle as he blinked. 

"Sure," I forced a small smile.

"Thank you," He stammered, "That would be great. I was just starting to think it was Dumbledore's way of giving the lessons." 

"So you've done it then? Occlumency?" The boy probed. "Is it hard to do, or does it become easy when you master it?"

I swallowed an empty lump in my throat, my mind going back to the last time I had done Occlumency, desperately trying to keep Viktor Krum out of my head when he had forcefully violated me. That moment felt like so long ago, and all I could think of now was how remorseful he had been after. 

"But I'll make it up to you."

"How?"

"By making sure nobody touches you, like that, or in any other way again."

"It does take an effort," I started thickly, "But if you know what to do, it's over in moments."

"When was the last time—," Potter broke off, a hand scratching at the back of his head. "You had to—" 

"Almost a month ago," I answered plainly. "Viktor decided he needed what I wasn't giving to him."

"Viktor Krum?" Harry Potter blanched, his brows raising as he looked away in thought.

"Viktor's douche meter used to be high back then, I assure you he's perfectly tamed at present—mostly."

The boy didn't respond to my jest, and I spotted his pale skin paling even further in this moon light.

"Harry, what is it?"

The boy faced me. "It's just, The Triwizard tournament. I couldn't help but think back to it. I found Krum in the maze. He was—he was being controlled. He was attacking Cedric Diggory."

I gasped. The Hogwarts student who was killed?

"What?"

"He was under the Imperius curse," Potter swallowed. "Performing the Cruciatus curse on Diggory. I found him, I tried to stop him—I stunned him."

My heart pounded in my chest. Why wouldn't Viktor tell me any of this? Was this why he had been so adamant to know from the start? Was this why he wouldn't leave me be after what happened to Gregorovitch? Was this where his worry stemmed from? His white hot anger? His fury at having no control over whatever I was getting myself into?

"But who would—"

"Barty Crouch Jr," Harry Potter spoke the name like it was a weather report, devoid of any emotion in his tone. "A death eater. His father, Bartemius Crouch Sr, is in the ministry of magic."

I blinked, trying to absorb the information. What the hell was going on in Britain? Would death eaters infiltrate the ministry next? Hogwarts already had aspiring followers for Voldemort didn't it? Yet still the world was on the fence about the return of the dark wizard, picking and choosing sides like the oblivious side could even be afforded in the first place.

I thought of Viktor and my heart jolted in an escalated pain. Being under Imperius was torturous, it was being forced to give up all of your senses—it was abhorrent. It scarred you for life, deepening a vulnerability inside that couldn't ever be filled in, a gaping hole always breathing sharp air.

"Viktor Krum didn't say?" Harry's voice was soft, considerate as he observed my struggle.

"He didn't," My lips moved, my voice barely above a broken whisper. "He didn't." 

"Oh," The boy pulled at his shirt's collar anxiously. "Then please don't tell him I told you. I mean—I don't think he would be—" 

"Don't worry," I managed. I cleared my throat then, feeling the sir weighing down on my chest suddenly.

"I will seek you out Harry," I looked at him. "Make sure you know the exact location of the Malfoy Manor when I do."

I had wanted the visit to be as soon as I set foot in Hogwarts, and perhaps I would've taken the location at present and left hours after. But I didn't feel up to it now. My chest felt heavy and constricted. I felt betrayed by myself, for not knowing Viktor's predicament. Why hadn't he told me?

Barty Crouch Jr. The name pulsated in my head, curling my fists at my side. At least now I had a death eater name of my own to give to Angus when he came back. 

"And don't use your Invisibility cloak for a while," I met his eyes as a confused expression covered his face. "Your cloak may be the third deathly hallow we are currently looking for. I may have to take it from you, but I don't want to until I'm sure. The others may not be so thorough if they spot it."

It was a lie. I was going to take the cloak from him if I had to, and I was the one who didn't care about being thorough. I didn't want to, since the way Potter used the hallow so frequently, it was easy to believe that it belonged to him. And maybe it did belong to him. Maybe for once, out of all the three treacherous hallows, one really did belong to a fourteen year old boy at Hogwarts. And maybe that was where it ought to stay. But if Fontaine tightened his hold on our arms, I wouldn't have a choice. Even if I did make the right choice, there was no guarantee that the others part of this assignment would follow suit.

Harry gulped visibly, blinking in surprise.

"We don't go to Hogwarts, Harry," I softened my voice. "Most of us are eager to go back, and we can once our assignment is finished. You understand the urgency, don't you?"

He nodded anxiously.

"Keep your cloak out of sight."

With that being said, I spun on my heels and started walking away, leaving the bewildered boy in the courtyard as I made my way to our designated dorms for the duration of our stay in the castle. My eyes ached suddenly, a sharp pain that I knew would turn into tears if I let it. 

I climbed the stone stairs of the tower to our dorms, and entered the lush moonlit washed room. The translucent curtain danced in the incoming air from the balcony, briefly veiling the familiar eyes of cream white pools staring at me as I entered.

"Angus," I breathed, shutting the door behind me.

"I did what you ordered, my lady," The Halmasti Jinn spoke in his heavy breathy whisper, his form shrouded in a dark shadow confined to no shape considering the low ceiling of the dorm room.

"I have names and locations of fifteen death eaters at present," The creature continued as I neared him. "I wanted to report to you before I set out for more on your command."

"Yes, it's great you came," I managed a nod, my head running with thoughts. "Do you have a Barty Crouch Jr, in your knowledge?"

"Yes," The creature responded after a beat. "Twenty four, blonde hair, pale skin, son of Bartemius Crouch Sr, the head of the department of Magical Law Enforcement in the Ministry. The death eater is in London. St eve 28."

"You have done well, Angus. Thank you." The creature bristled slightly, unsure of how to respond to a praise.

"Now, Angus," I met his eyes again. "Take me to London, to this death eater."

I didn't want to use my magic at present, my mind was still on Viktor Krum and the Imperius curse and I knew I couldn't translocate with a mind as occupied as mine was at present. I could only hope Angus would help in that regard. He didn't disappoint.

I reached out for him, my hand feeling nothing in the shadow of his form before he solidified himself into the form of a six legged wolf like the Halmasti I had met in Ilvermorny. The only difference between Angus and him was that Angus could shift himself like this to fit his needs and the latter had only one form. 

My hand met his thick warm fur, as I shut my eyes when I felt myself being hoisted up over his back—engulfed in a sea of warm fur etched with his body heat. Before I could fix my shift in vision, or even understand how he had lifted me up in the first place, I found myself clutching onto him tight as everything around me shifted. My senses were thrown off, terribly—and I felt the matter of my skull churn inside its shackle of bones. Nausea swept me in a wave, and I could only do so much to hold my insides back.

Before I almost gave up the fight, I found myself upright again, my senses assembling back in place as I dared to open my eyes.

My vision danced in front of me, contorting into a palette of colors mixing in and out of each other until my surroundings came into focus.

The night sky raged overhead as I made my way down from Angus' back. The London city skyline was glittering like an expensive bracelet strewn into its full length, draped across the backdrop of the night, almost like a discarded gift from an obsessed lover. Except, the city felt all but discarded in its vibrancy. Vehicles whizzed by in the main street below, a radiating hum of noise accented with conversation and honks rose into the atmosphere from where we stood watching—atop a high building roof. 

Angus diffused into the darkness beside me, his form no longer the one I had arrived in London clinging to. I felt him still, like a heavy mist right beside me. His presence was heavy, occupying space even if the eye couldn't see it—a comfort I didn't realize I needed in this foreign city.

In more ways than one, London had always appeared to me to be the hub of Britain. Several times in editions of lumière un journal I have read the name of the city, descriptions of minor events that occurred here were presented in all their exaggerations in the French newspapers. There were reasons of course, like noted French journalists being invited along with other foreign ones to witness openings and wizarding galas. It was a publicity stunt every time, and the journalists bought into it happily.

Elias used to snicker every time he read a British news article that served no purpose in the French papers, musing about how a free paid for trip abroad was just the thing to trap meek journalists, shortly before claiming that he wouldn't have passed up the opportunity himself if he were offered. Elias Dupont was intelligent, but it was his blatant smartness that always struck a chord with me. He spoke the truth, regardless of what people around him wanted to hear.

I bit my lip as my thoughts ventured to my friend. What would he have thought of coming to London with me? He had expressed his interest in the city oftentimes for me—or for anyone else—to not pay attention.

I swallowed thickly, suddenly full to the brim with the overwhelming urge to have him by my side. He knew London like I never could, despite neither of us having been before. I had come for Barty Crouch Jr. I had come to possibly squeeze out every last drop of information about his dark lord that I could from him, and then to leave him as another message of my own to show Voldemort that I remained unafraid of him.

I could do it all alone, but suddenly I didn't want to. I could ask Angus to do it for me, while I slipped in the shadows and watched, but that felt.. wrong. Why should Angus have to do this for me? Hadn't he done half of it already?

"Angus," I spoke then, realizing it had been minutes upon minutes of us just being still in the shadows London had welcomed us with at present.

"I—," I broke off, cringing at the hesitance in my voice as I kept my eyes on the glimmering skyscrapers in the distance.

"Can you go back to Hogwarts? I want you to bring a friend here for me."

Elias Dupont was the answer at present. He could help me. Maybe I didn't need to use violence, maybe Elias could charm all the answers from the death eater out for me with his exceptional conversation skills. The death eater was undoubtedly someone highly sophisticated, and even if I could replicate something like that, I wouldn't be able to hide my accent or intentions for long without being found out for fraud.

I stilled at the thought, my palms fisting at my sides. I was going from harboring searing hatred for Voldemort and his death eaters to now considering withholding violence against one when I was in the perfect position to do so. I could just erase this Barty Crouch Jr and be done with it. So why was I not considering that?

Angus murmured an efficient response, a thick "Yes, my lady," before I felt his presence dissipate from beside me, leaving me alone atop a dark building in London, Britain, with my ponytail whipping against the wind and my knee length thin dress pressing against my legs and flaring out behind me.

I would have to tell Elias everything, and suddenly, I wanted him to know. Telling Viktor had been so liberating, and I couldn't fathom to contrast how much I had dreaded him knowing before. Bridgette knowing was also such a comfort, and I didn't plan to hide from her my intentions with Dumbledore any longer than I had to now. What would Elias do when he learned I was planning to defeat the wizard he held in such high regard?

Minutes trickled by, before Angus reappeared, a panting and startled Elias Dupont clutching the Halmasti Jinn's thick fur as his body slipped over to the ground. Efficiently, the boy jumped back to his feet and schooled his features, tugging at a dark green blazer he wore and running a hand through his dark brown head of hair.

His eyes met mine, and the startled expression in them morphed into curiosity and surprise as he walked over to my side.

My lips parted as I grasped at words to form a coherent sentence. Where was I supposed to begin?

"You enslaved one of les dorés," Elias Dupont spoke after a pause, his eyes fixed ahead on the busy London scene that I now seemed to have memorized. "It is one of les dorés isn't it?"

"Yes," I let out, not knowing why I hadn't expected this as his first question. "Angus is.. I could've freed him or left him enslaved in his former position. I—I needed his help."

"Did you know that some heuristic wizards and witches kept them like house elves?"

I glanced at him, startled, but Elias' expression remained schooled, as though he was merely considering a hypothesis Professor Pierre had presented to him in Potions class at Beauxbatons.

"How did you know I—"

"I've known for a while," The boy uttered, his eyes meeting mine in consideration. "I didn't mean to eavesdrop, mon ami, but I overheard you and Bridgette the night Toussaint went missing in Ilvermorny. You two were so nonchalant, despite the panic at the castle and I couldn't help but wonder."

I swallowed, a ball of nerves in my stomach settling.

"But that's just it," Dupont started. "I know you're heuristic, so I spent some time on it in the library. But I don't know anything else. Like why you've had this.. Angus, bring me here for one. Or why that night you and Bridgette were—"

"Mon Dieu, are we in London?" The boy gaped then, his jaw slightly apart as he observed the layout of the scene before him with a new intensity.

I wondered then what gave the city away before I had the chance to tell him myself, but then again, Dupont probably had buildings of the city and their exact positions memorized by heart based off nothing but his capability to devour non-fiction and newspapers.

"Oui," I mustered a small smile, before it fell away. "Elias, I'll tell you everything. But for now, I need your help. Je te promets d'être transparente avec toi."

He blinked as if pulled out of a reverie by my voice, his irises meeting mine in expectation.

"There's a death eater here, Barty Crouch Jr," I started, glancing at Angus' darkened misting form as he hung like a cloud in our periphery. "Angus will take us to him."

"I need you to help me extract information about Voldemort—anything significant—from him, without giving us away."

His brows furrowed in confusion, the alarm in his features composing itself quickly. "Is this part of our assignment by Agilbert Fontaine?"

"No, far from it," I shook my head. "I promise I'll tell you more, but for now, just know that Voldemort is not only after Harry Potter."

Elias' eyes widened in realization then as he let out a shaky exhale. "Your heuristics."

"Yes," I swallowed. "I just—I need to stay a step ahead from him. As selfish as it sounds, I have to protect myself."

The boy turned away then, eyes fixing themselves on the London scape again, before he tugged at his blazer and straightened himself.

"Très bien alors, I've never been one to refuse when a good friend asks for aid, and I won't start now." 

"Angus," Elias raised his brows and eyed the dark cloud the Halmasti Jinn had contorted itself into. "Whenever you're ready I suppose."

***

A/N: 
Hi, wow I've been having such a whirlwind of a life lately, its all left me with little time and energy to write. But once my exams are over, I'll be back to consistent updates!