A Strange Old World Ch.17 (Patreon)

Disclaimer: I don't own anything except the OC

Chapter 17– The Final Stand

AN: Beta'd by Sedition till the last second. Massive thnx to him!

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The title of level 6 Dueler was considered the epitome of realistic ambition by many. While the rank was only now being popularized to the rest of the world, most European wizards were familiar with the weight behind the title.

Of course, for a rank with such high regard, the conditions to achieving it were just as high.

Officially, there was a list of stringent requirements that the British Ministry loved to flaunt. Though in actuality, they simply hoped to encourage their citizens to work harder, glorifying the rank like an award given to the greatest wizards of each generation.

The first requirement was to have master level knowledge in at least one out of the three listed subjects; Charms, Transfiguration, or Defense against the Dart Arts.

Second was the ability to defeat no less than three mid-ranked Level 5 opponents, or two high-ranked level 5 opponents, simultaneously.

Third was to have a well-developed situational awareness and tactical knowledge, tested through a series of survival and adaptability tests that each bearer of the rank went through.

Should a wizard meet all the three requirements, they shall be given a level 6 Dueler's badge. Officially.

Unofficially, the leaders of Magical Britain knew that only those who have touched the pinnacle of magical arts; Elemental Magic, could be truly considered level 6 wizards.

And this was the requirement that Rufus Scrimgeour failed to meet sufficiently, and can thus only be counted amongst the average level 6 wizards. It was also another reason for his hatred of Potter and Black, who—unlike him—had the support of familial magic to advance their knowledge and might.

Politically, Rufus was perhaps the second most powerful wizard in Britain. Magically however, he’d barely managed to etch his name alongside the elites.

Rufus wasn’t completely hopeless in elemental magic, but he’d never managed to develop the type of senses required for the art.

The little that he did know however, was not enough to bridge the gap between him and the true elites, who had been practicing their elements for a long time.

And while this was all clear to him for a long time now, he did not like the reminder while he fought a god-like enemy—being the only one to not have even a single element mastered in the group.

“Rufus, back!” As if on cue, Moody shouted, coming to the fore—pushing Rufus behind like a child needing protection—to deal with their opponent’s next attack.

A twenty-meter long whip of cursed fire—dark, gleaming, and thirsty—splintered the air apart as it came swinging horizontally towards the gathered English wizards.

Rufus smothered the urge to cast his trusty Protego—knowing how incredibly foolish that would be—and quietly backed away.

“Shields!” Bellatrix Black bellowed, surging forward along with Moody, their wands twirling together to create a translucent wall of Force element—one foot thick and pale-yellow in colour—that covered the gathered wizards in a semi-spherical dome.

‘Force shield.’ Rufus had trouble suppressing the bitterness in his heart, knowing that Black knew not one, but two different elements of magic.

The only other person he knew to have achieved that feat—apart from Dumbledore—was Lily Potter. And even she wasn’t able to use it in combat.

He could only stare enviously as the black whip struck against the yellow translucent wall with an air-shattering sound, splattering dark flaming liquid around them as it came to a forced halt.

Yet, it didn’t simply dissipate, trying to worm its way even deeper into the shield—its dark flames seemingly sucking the magic out of the yellow wall slowly.

Wisps of its shadowy tendrils wormed their way into the yellow translucent wall—creating crevices—slowly but surely making their way inside, and spreading cracks through its pale surface.

‘This is it.’ This was the power Rufus had always dreamt about, but never possessed.

The moment his whip lost its momentum, the Dark Lord pulled it back with a tug, swinging it overhead like a lasso as he prepared to strike again. Seeing the matte black whip that seemed to suck all the light around it sent shivers down Rufus’ spine, especially when he realized that with each and every spin, the whip seemed to be gathering more and more darkness from the night.

Thankfully, the rest didn’t stay idle. The moment Bella and Moody released them from the shield, they acted.

“James, Bella, restrict his movements!” The Minister snapped off as they spread to cover the Dark Lord’s front. “Lily, hit him with your strongest bolt! Leave the defense to Alastor and me!”

Then, as if an afterthought, the Minister turned to him. “Rufus, distract him! You’ve the permission to use the unforgivables.”

Rufus wasn’t a brooding teen to cry about his weakness, but he’d be lying if he said the situation wasn’t affecting him.

Yet, he had his orders, and being distracted now would cost him his job. Which would be disastrous at this point of his career.

The whip of darkness came around to make another deadly pass—this time splitting the air vertically—but Rufus could feel the quidditch pitch building up with power as his allies prepared to shed their own elements into the mix.

Just when the whip started snapping down, a sheet of solid ice—originating from the Minister—rose up from the ground to meet it. Thicker than the previous force shield, the plate of ice managed to catch the whip on its surface, wrapping around it from all the sides to keep it contained.

Yet, even as the Minister guided it from beneath—the whip of darkness was rapidly melting through the ice, the sheer power behind it simply too much for a single wizard to resist.

Luckily for them, Moody was proficient in reinforcing an element. A wave of yellow energy dug into the ice, spreading through its melted crevices and strengthening it passively to prevent the whip from sheering straight through the icy sheet.

Had Moody been a second too late, they would’ve had to face the whip point blank.

“Together, James!” Bellatrix’s yell forced his attention ahead, and Rufus joined Black and Potter as they worked together to push back against the Dark Lord.

Through all their commotion, Grindelwald stood unmoved from his place—his eyes fixed upon the shielding duo—guarding the Death Eaters behind him as they proceeded with the ritual.

A part of Rufus’ mind was bubbling with unease, feeling like they were being treated as mere irritants. Sure, producing a whip of mixed elements—fire and shadows—was an astonishing feat of magic, certainly nothing they could hope to recreate. And yet, the way Grindelwald stood—one hand behind his back, half turned to face You-Know-Who’s cauldron—it felt like he cared more for the ritual than defeating his enemies.

The Dark Lord simply let a continuous stream of magic into the whip, trying to overwhelm them with sheer power, rather than the skill that Rufus imagined he possessed.

And yet, from the looks of it, it was working. Even with Moody and Bones combining their elements, the whip was slowly but surely grinding through the yellowish sheet of ice.

Rufus wasted no more time. Now it was his turn to step forth as his wand danced through the air, every stroke releasing a spell with sharp accuracy. While he may not be an accomplished Elementalist, he was still a level 6 Auror—touching upon an entirely different level of spell casting compared to the average Aurors.

His spells—ranging from explosive Bombardas and piercing Reductos to quick Transfigurations—were strategically cast, targeting the area aroundthe Dark Lord rather than at him, in hopes to make it land.

After all, they were fighting a lone enemy as a combined group. No matter how powerful, even a second of distraction could prove fatal for the Dark Lord.

But Grindelwald wasn’t called the Overlord of the West for nothing.

Without turning his attention, the Dark Lord held up a finger, and multiple force shields suddenly popped up into existence, accurately placed midair to intercept each of the spells away from his body. And just like that, Rufus' spell-chain fell apart way before they could ever hope to reach their targets.

‘Wandless Elemental Magic.’ Rufus grimaced. ‘Of course.’

‘Well, time to cast that horrid spell.’

Just when Rufus prepared to cast the Killing Curse however—something he knew even the elemental shields cannot block—the air around him suddenly became electrifying, the smell of ozone spreading through their side of the pitch, and he could sense a deep power rapidly building up behind him—like a dam about to burst.

Stunned, he turned back to see Lily Potter standing in the middle of a power vortex, her wand glinting with a pure white hue as she took control of her element.

‘Beautiful.’ His heart skipped a beat, taking in the stunningly beautiful redhead wielding such incredible power.

Up ahead, the other two elementalists matched the redhead’s timing to cast their own spells, unleashing a horrifyingly powerful attack upon the Dark Lord.

Rufus’ heart burnt as Bellatrix released her family magic, finally utilizing her main element—shadows. It wasn’t the burning flame-like shadows that Grindelwald had produced, but the pitch black kind that bubbled beneath the Dark Lord’s feet—earning the Black family their ancestral name.

Just as multiple strands of darkness lashed out at their target from one side, the earth trembled beneath the Dark Lord’s feet; cracking apart to launch thick arms of wood and mud from the other side as James Potter cast his own family magic of earth element.

And yet, they weren’t the main attacks. They were simply distractions meant to open up their target for the crackling bolt of lightning released from the wand of Lily Potter.

The power that she unleashed was such that it gladdened Rufus to count the redhead on their side. He wouldn’t wish to stand against such raw might.

Thankfully for the Dark Lord, he was better than Rufus.

Much better.

With an irritated tsk, the man abandoned his whip—which had been barely half-a-feet away from cutting through the elemental shield—letting it disintegrate into nothingness.

The next second, a sphere of yellow energy entombed him inside its protective embrace as the attacks landed.

The strands of shadows struggled to pierce their way in, while the dirty wooden arms punched upon its pale surface uselessly.

Finally, the bolt of lightning met the shield of force.

Thunder rumbled upon the Quidditch pitch as the two elements met in a terrible display of power, the land around Grindelwald turning blackened as the green grass burnt from the impact. The lightning did not differentiate between friend and foe, burning away the spindly shadows and wrecking apart the earthly limbs.

Yet, when the dust settled, the overlord was revealed standing on the ground, utterly unharmed. If anything, he looked vaguely irritated as his shield was left weak and flickering, cracks marring its surface.

Rufus stood stock-still, mouth hanging open, as the Dark Lord tanked all of the attacks upon his single shield.

Oh, he knew killing Grindelwald wasn’t going to be this easy. He hadn’t actually expected for the attacks to land.

But he’d also expected the Dark Lord to at least struggle! To do something more impressive than just stand his ground passively.

Perhaps an impressive combination of mundane and elemental magic to put up a nigh impenetrable defense. Or perhaps a show of pure skills; casting magic with inhuman speed to deal with each of the attacks one by one.

What he never would’ve guessed was for the Dark Lord to just stand in place—eyes closed, wand held in front, and a hand inside his pocket—as a simple force shield revolved around him, stopping a combination of three powerful elemental attacks on their track.

‘Perhaps that’s something even more impressive.’

And not just block, as he found out the next second when the Dark Lord’s flickering shield suddenly dissipated into motes of yellow lights that recombined together with the remnants of lightning, earth, and shadow—turning to a surreal mixture of elemental hue—to form a blazing inferno of multiple elements.

A twenty feet tall inferno that quickly took the form of a coiled cobra surrounding the relatively tiny figure of Grindelwald.

“It seems I may have underestimated you.” The Dark Lord spoke out, his voice earning a small lull in the battle as the gathered wizards stared at the cobra coiled around the man with trepidation. “I’m afraid playing with you might exhaust more of my valuable materials, which just won’t do. Killing had not been my motive today, but then again, it seldom is. All the same I must do what is needed. For the Greater Good.”

He removed his hand from his pocket, throwing down a small broken container on the ground. “I have seen what you can do. Now it’s time you lay witness to what I can.”

Then the Dark Lord unleashed hell upon them.

The great elemental serpent came snarling, crossing the quidditch pitch in the blink of an eye, its jaw wide open—flaunting wooden fangs that danced with electricity.

Rufus’ teammates reacted even quicker, everyone knowing exactly what to do. Minister Bones, Bellatrix, Moody, and James joined together to provide physical defense, while Lily started forming her lightning bolt again.

In a high-paced wizarding duel, a beginner using elemental magic would be an assured death sentence. Not only does it take intense concentration to sense the suitable element—which the user is most comfortable with—but it takes even more effort to exert your control over them—enough to shape them to a degree.

Which is why Rufus did not even bother using the paltry elemental magic—of the fire element—that he knew. Instead, he separated from the group—wand held aloft—in hopes to catch a distracted Dark Lord by surprise with a Killing Curse, or at least ruin his focus from the elemental monster.

Shockingly however, when he forced his gaze away from the behemoth serpent, he found the battlefield to be suspicious empty, giving him a clear line-of-sight towards the Death Eater’s ritual as Sirius Black dropped a bone into the cauldron, chanting something inaudible.

‘What!?’ Frantic, Rufus did a full scan of his surroundings.’Where in Merlin's soggy beard—!?’

Shadows suddenly bubbled just beside his feet, giving him little chance to react as a whip of black fire once again materialized out of nowhere, coming straight for him.

‘Protego!’ He cast instinctively, and a protective blue wall flickered into existence.

Yet the whip melted the shield apart as if it weren’t there, and the next second Rufus felt an uncomfortable heat spreading through his chest.

He gasped. Then choked, unable to gasp due to a lack of air. His hand pressed against his chest as his legs gave out, and his palm came up bloody.

‘No, no, no, no, no. Not now, please.’

‘Not like this’

His eyes went down to his chest, staring uncomprehendingly at the naked ribcage dripping with blood.

‘Is this…the inside of my body?’ Rufus asked himself, strangely confused. ‘But…why am I not feeling anything then? Oh! It must be a dream.’

Now it made sense. Cause the only thing he felt from his open chest was a slight stinging and an incredible heat. Or was it cold, perhaps…? He couldn’t decide.

‘Yep, definitely a dream.’

And as his eyes gradually shut forever, Rufus let go—thinking he’d wake up after everything was over. Perhaps he may even throw a small party this time, the PR was sure to be good for standing up against the most successful Dark Lord of all time….

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When Harry and his group arrived in the stadium, it was to witness a scene of pure chaos.

The quidditch pitch was lit up by a multitude of torches hovering mid-air, illuminating the otherwise pitch-black night. The magic in the air was overwhelming, giving it a physical weight that Harry could almost taste upon his tongue.

Up ahead on the other side of the pitch,  two groups clashed in a fierce conflict—their silhouettes dancing under the dark night as the fight raged on—neither one familiar to Harry's eyes. Although he did know which side he must support.

They were spread out upon the open field, almost two dozen in numbers; one group wearing Auror robes—though clearly not of the English variant—while the other group were garbed in black cloaks that were much more practical than the silly Death Eaters costumes.

Behind the battlefield was a wall of stone taller than three men stacked together, cutting through the quidditch pitch and extending over a hundred meters long—completely hiding the events happening behind it from Harry and his group’s gaze.

Yet, he could still make out the bright flashes coming from behind it—though they looked much more natural than a spell's glow—and as his eyes scanned the battling forces—not finding Lily and Bella amongst them—there was no confusion in his mind as to his destination.

Neither, it seems, in the mind of his companions.

“He's here...N’thy.” Longbottom elbowed Shacklebolt, pointing at—what looked like—the leader of the opposing force. “Aber N’thy, the level six Brazilian team-leader.”

Beside Harry, Stella gave a very unconvincing cough. “Its…ah, Abernathy, Mr. Longbotttom. Just one word.”

“Filthy name-changing bastard.” Longbottom spat to the side. “Doesn’t matter. All of you, follow me. We’ll strike them hard and fast, not letting them know what hit em’ until they're buried six feet deep.”

Wanting to avoid further wastage of time, Harry quickly followed along as the Aurors took off—signaling his group to do the same—making their way across the quidditch pitch, wands held tight and ready for a fight—cautious eyes flickering around at the shadows every now and then. 

His target wasn’t actually the battle taking place in front of their eyes of course, but the one hidden behind the stone wall. He simply intended to break away from the Aurors once they reached their destination.

When the time came however—their feet coming to a brief halt as they surveyed the situation—Harry found himself hesitating slightly; his eyes falling upon the fighting figure of Tonks amongst the clearly struggling group.

The foreign Aurors—while skilled and numerous—were very close to being overwhelmed. The presence of a level 6 Dueler simply created too big of a gap for an extra member or two to cross.

Yet, as much as he liked Tonks—their recent bout of debauchery a sweet reminder of that—Lily and Bella were simply too important for him, undoubtedly his main priority. 

Even so, the cold-hearted decision of abandoning Tonks pinched him in the guts tightly.

‘But she’ll have Longbottom and Kingsley though.’ His mind comforted.

Decision solidifying, Harry occluded his momentary weakness away with a heavy heart, steeling his will to abandon a friend, and hope his allies were competent enough to turn the tide thoroughly.

Just when he made to command his team however, a group of people suddenly barged into the stadium from the official entrance one by one, laying into the enemies with a shower of spells.

He could make out the faces of the two eldest Weasley sons, followed by their father, while Andromeda Tonks trailed behind them in a much more sedate pace, though still huffing from exhaustion.

“Rejoice my friends!” Exclaimed one of the African wizards suddenly. “Reinforcement has arrived from both sides! Let us revel upon the greatest slaughter of this decade!”

Harry furrowed his brows. ‘They are the good guys right?’

Beside him, Shacklebolt and Longbottom seemed to finally lose their patience and started bombarding the Alliance members from behind.

The new reinforcement gave the struggling group a much needed support, indeed turning the tide of the battle.

‘They’ll be fine.’ Harry decided.

“Stella, Ms. Delacours, with me!” He snapped off, finally breaking away from the group as the edge of the stone wall drew closer.

“Mr. Potter?” Shacklebolt called after him as Harry broke into a run.

“I’m off for Grindelwald, you lot go and support those Aurors!”

He did not look back again, rapidly crossing to the other side of the wall, his feet crossing the distance in large leaps.

He’d just reached the thick front of the wall— heart pounding with anticipation and adrenaline—when a piercing screech shook his entire world, forcing him to a halt as he clutched his ears with a wince.

The earth rumbled beneath his feet, and he felt something truly magnanimous moving upon a shared ground.

When his eyes finally fell upon the monster—towering well above the stone wall—he was forced to let Occlumency reign upon his mind completely to stop from freezing up in sheer shock.

Easily as tall as a giant—and not the below average kind like Grawp—and made up of a patchwork of raw energies that Harry had only ever read about in his recent studies, the gigantic cobra sped through the lands towards a target out of his eyesight.

‘Holy Morgan’s soggy arse.” He commented calmly.

Behind him, his group of females—having finally caught up to him—nodded seriously at his words.

“Alright.” Harry addressed them. “You’ve just seen what we are up against. I will not judge any of you for backing out now. Yes, even you, Stella.”

He'd expected at least the last one to jump on the chance of escape, but all he received from the three was a steely look of determination.

“We came back to help you, Mr. Potter.” Apolline solemnly said. “We will not abandon you at the end.”

Fleur—and Stella, for some reason—nodded silently, their eyes still upon the elemental serpent.

“Very well then.” Harry turned back. “Come, let’s end this.”

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Alice Longbottom quickly made her way through the mouth of the stadium’s back entrance. Alongside her were the three eldest Weasley males as well as Andromeda Tonks.

They’d decided, after much arguing and muffled shouting, that Alice and William will enter the quidditch pitch to rescue Jacob and Nymphadora, while the rest would stay back guarding the kids.

Unfortunately, the entire argument became moot when the Weasley patriarch and his second son decided to tag along anyway, unable to let their eldest go into a magical fight alone.

Of course, how could Andromeda sit there quietly, ignoring the life of her daughter, after witnessing such familial love? Finding some sudden stubbornness in her Black heart, she didn’t budge from her decision to fight for her daughter’s safety.

Thus here they were, marching into death’s maw with heads held high, stubborn and determined fools thinking they might change the course of history.

Alice sighed. ‘At least Neville will be safe.’

But that was not enough. No matter what happens, she will have to drag herself and her husband back to their son; alive.

They had once deprived him of his parents, leaving the poor boy to fend against the world all on his own. He may have his grandmother, but Alice wouldn’t count her as the best of guardians.

She loved her mother-in-law, truly she did, but the woman can be quite uppity sometimes, and she’d rather not leave her son with only Augusta as an influence.

‘Not again.’

Not this time.

Thus it was, with determination to come back alive, that Alice Longbottom finally joined the battlefield.

The night was dark and full of terrors. The only source of light upon the quidditch pitch was the shy moon hesitantly peeking from behind the dark clouds, and a bundle of levitating torches spread across the pitch—burning with a powerful intensity.

And bringing the terror upon the night were the horrific sounds of battle ranging across the grounds. Screams, spell whooshes, splintering air and demolishing grounds, crackling bolt of lightning…they all combined to almost deafen her entire world as they arrived upon the battlefi—

‘Wait. Lightning Bolts?“

“....Lily.” She whispered, horrified by the conclusions. “And the only being who could force her to use it…”

Grindelwald.

…Well, unless Voldemort was back. In which case she must drag her husband and son and get out of this country with all haste.

No, not just the country, but the entire continent.

She’d heard India was quite lax with their magical immigrants. As one of the strongest wizarding countries—and quite far away from here—it would most likely be one of the last ones to gain the Dark Lords combined attention.

‘And those flying carpets are quite interesting as well…'

All such thoughts left her mind when her eyes fell upon the massive stone wall dividing the pitch in two, each side housing a battleground.

“...Dora.” William whispered, before dashing off in a mad scramble, taking the left side of the stone wall.

“Bill, wait!” Charlie ran off after him, “Think a little, stupid! We can ambush them from the side!”

But the eldest child seemed to be deaf to his younger brother’s plea, and soon both had sprinted off, their voices disappearing into the mixture of chaos.

“…leaving an old man behind at this age...” Their father sighed, turning to give her a nod before taking off after the boys, his wand held tightly within his grasp.

Only she and Andromeda remained as the battle raged on around them. And Alice knew where the woman was going.

“I’ll be taking the right side then.” Alice announced before the woman could give her a farewell.

She might start doubting her decision to choose Grindelwald if she was left alone.

The Tonks matriarch gave her a grim nod. “Good luck.”

“You too.” Before her mind could whisper cowardly nothings, she took in a sprint.

Her destination? The greatest Dark Lord in existence.

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Lily Potter was experiencing the third worst day in her thirty-three years of life.

The first was when she'd lost her family for the first time, the day it had all fallen apart. The day when she and James were tortured to insanity, leaving behind their children to fend for themselves.

The second was the day when Harry had declared her a stranger, breaking her hope-filled heart into a million little pieces. It was the day that had started her life of misery for the years and years to come, knowing her son hated her. Knowing Harry hated her.

And here was the third, the day when it may all fall apart once again. The day when she might lose everything.

Just when her life was looking up again, fate went and did what it does best; screw her over.

Now here she was; knowing Jacob was currently being prepared for a ritual, and she may not be able to stop him from dying. Knowing she was fighting the second most powerful Dark Lord of the millennium alongside her husband, risking to abandon her children once again to die a worthless death.

And yet, the most painful knowledge that bit her to the core; knowing Harry was being hunted—most likely already kidnapped, and on his way here—and there was nothing she could do about it. Her son, who'd transformed her colorless life into literal heaven for the past few months, may be fighting for his life, waiting for his mother's help that will never come.

It tortured her mind in ways that she cannot possibly describe.....or actually, she very well can.

It grinded upon her mind like a constant Cruciatus.

Yet, the only thing she could do was fight on for now. Save those that can be saved, and pray that her children came out of this accursed night safe and sound.

But first, she must survive and come back alive, if she actually wished to see them again.

And for that, Grindelwald must go.

Her Occlumency extracted the whirlwind of chaotic emotions from within her, supplying it to strengthen her intent and will, and thus strengthening her magic.

Lightning was unpredictable, unstoppable, and utterly, utterly uncontrollable. Powerful in its might, destructive to the core; controlling it was just as easy as controlling one's past.

The trick wasn't to control it, Lily knew, it was to unleash it. Direct it, give it a target, and see the magic bloom.

Understanding an element's nature was the first true step in mastering elemental Magic. And thankfully for Lily, she knew this quite well too.

Thus, as she fed her turbulent bundle of emotions to her magic, her element became as clear to her senses as her this fading day, and she once again started giving form to a bolt of powerful magic.

"Scrimgeour's down!" The Minister's sudden yell created a ripple upon her Occlumency. "Cover your backs! He's here!"

Up ahead, Grindelwald emerged from the shadows in front of her stunned eyes, the darkness draining out from his body to gather around his arm like a demon taking form—turning into a burning whip—the whip around his wand tip, while the spike originating from his entire arm.

His new target? James.

'No!'

But there was nothing anyone else could do. Bella was tied up battling the patchwork of elemental spirits, alongside Moody and the Minister, struggling to end the monster as a shadow of mundane explosive spells and elemental Magic hit the monster.

Ahead, James created a quick Protego, barely managing to stop the whip as it struck at him. Yet, the whip was rapidly eating through the shield's surface like a thirsty snake, digging through the blue shield as easily as a hot knife through butter. But the final nail that popped his defense came not from the front, but from the back, as multiple strands of shadows lashed at his unprotected side.

'No, no, no, this can't be happening! I need more time!'

Yet soon, James Potter was held up in a net of spindly shadow arms, his shield dissipating, helpless and defenseless.

A fear deeply rooted into her psyche reared its ugly head, and Lily hastily decided to let go of her element to simply battle the Dark Lord spell to spell.

Suddenly, out of nowhere, spells started assaulting the Dark Lord from the side. Practiced and powerful spells, with a speed and accuracy only a level 6 Dueler can cast with.

Yet, without turning, the Dark Lord simply held up a finger, forming multiple force shields—small and spherical—into existence that collided with the spells mid-air.

Chuckling, the Dark Lord glanced sideways. "Did you truly think I didn't see you creeping here like a thief? Impressive Disillusionment, I must say though."

Air rippled as Alice Longbottom showed her face to the world, her eyes nervous but plotting.

"Now," The Dark Lord made a shoo-ing motion. "Kindly begone."

Alice held up her wand, crouching down, yet there was nothing she could do as an invisible force pushed her away, throwing her down on her arse.

"As for you." The Dark Lord turned to James, a hand suddenly wreathed in green flames heading for his throat.

Screaming in defiance, Lily launched her half-formed lightning through the air. Yet, even she knew it was weak and slow, not at the level she usually produced. While her Lightning may not travel at the speed of an actual lightning strike—not even close—it was still multiple times faster than any spell, once released.

The attack that headed for the Dark Lord might as well be moving at the pace of a disarming charm.

Elements need specific emotions to power them, and lightning did not appreciate her panic.

Grindelwald must've sensed the weak power inside it, for he simply extended a hand and launched a powerful vanishing charm, whisking her lightning out of existence; into nothingness and everything.

'You can do that!?'

Her bewildered curiosity was drowned out under James' groan.

Lily recognised the green hue on Grindelwald's palm—holding onto his victim's throat—as the Death element. Something so rare and unexplored that Lily was stuck between panic, despair, and frightened curiosity.

But as her husband's face started withering quickly, panic and despair won out. She didn't even know when she began casting, but spells rapidly flew through the air towards the idly standing Dark Lord.

Yet, just like before, the man simply intercepted them with accurately placed force shields.

Just when the realization of her worst fears coming true started dawning upon her—the nightmares that always started with James dying first, followed by her children—a different set of spells suddenly assaulted the Dark Lord, this time from behind.

Yet, Lily knew it was all for nothing even before the Dark Lord held up his infuriating little finger again. Only half-a-dozen elemental users working together could hope to resist Grindelwald, there was sim—!?

Shock spread through her when the Dark Lord whirled around urgently, throwing her husband's body away. And she turned just in time to witness their new ally's spells blasting straight through the elemental shields, heading for Grindelwald.

The Dark Lord held up his wand in haste, creating a much stronger force shield that covered his entire body in a spherical dome, forcing the spells to splash upon his shield uselessly, wreathing it under flames but doing no true damage.

Lily was even more surprised to sense the spells were simply mundane ones, not marred with even the tiniest bit of element.

Yet, the Dark Lord seemed more serious now than he'd been in the entire fight against them.

'Did Dumbledore....?'

Only then did her eyes finally fall upon the tall figure rapidly making his way towards them, emerald green eyes—more vibrant than hers, she'd always believed—flickering to her briefly before shifting back to the Dark Lord.

Yet, that single glance was enough for Lily to read the unshakeable determination that glinted in his eyes. Cold, occluded eyes, barely hiding the grim rage and stubborn intensity—as if they knew exactly what they were getting into, knew how utterly useless this may prove to be, yet stood their ground all the same.

And as Lily Potter took in the figure of her son running towards the Dark Lord with reckless abandon, all her panic and despair fled like it were never there. Occlumency once again controlled the whirlpool of emotions, and her wand glinted with powerful electricity.

She no longer panicked...for she cannot afford to. Not now.

James may be her love, but Harry was her life.

No...he was more than her life.

The Dark Lord wasn't content waiting for her however, swishing his wand at Harry.

Had her mind not been so focused, her heart would've leapt to her throat as two gigantic hands broke out from the earth at Harry's side, shaking the ground underneath.

Even so, her heart did leap to her throat a little when—like a professional acrobat—Harry jumped up towards the mud hands, twisting mid-air to slip through their thick fingers, never looking back.

Shadows lashed at him next, bubbling under the darkness of the night as they tried trapping her son. She didn't quite understand how—as her own eyes hadn't registered them until the splindly strands had attacked—but Harry was somehow fast enough to conjure a rope of fire—its end attached to his wand—that burnt the shadows apart like they were made of paper.

'They're almost equal in power.' An absent part of her mind noted. 'Hell, Harry might even be stronger!'

Snarling, the Dark Lord now focused all his attention upon his foe, and the elemental serpent—without its caster's constant magic supply—weakened considerably.

Mounds of earth separated themselves from the ground, coming to life in the form of large golems. Two quick Bombardas and the stone wall—that had divided the two battlefields till now—cracked apart, crumbling down into pieces that went flying for Harry.

At the same time, blackened lightning spewed out from the Dark Lord's wand, becoming a magnificent thunderbird that zapped through the air, joining the other attacks to launch an entire armada of spells—each feat worthy of awe from even the most experienced of Aurors.

Awe and fear.

At normal times, Lily imagined that this would be enough for her to break down into despair. Even she could never hope to survive such an attack. At least, without the option to Disapparate away.

For some reason however, her heart was utterly calm, completely convinced that Harry would survive. Some unexplainable—and irrational—feeling of surety that her son would come out on top.

And he did. For he wasn't alone.

Two flaming dragons rose up to the sky behind him, clashing against the thunderbird in a collision of fire and lightning, while Harry himself stepped forth with his wand extended.

"Defodio!" He roared aloud, wand tip pointing at the nearest golem.

A flash of light....and the golem fell apart in two neatly cut pieces.

Then came a wave of flooding water from behind Harry, rising up to catch all the rocketing stones in their wet grasp. The water didn't stop the stone, instead guiding them all away from Harry gently.

And Harry moved on.

The Dark Lord stopped his assault, silently watching the boy. Just when he opened his mouth however—no doubt to spew more of his bullshit—Lily finally released her power.

A bolt of lightning, as thick as her arm— stronger than she'd ever formed—blasted off towards the Dark Lord, who—at the very last second—turtled behind his translucent yellow shield.

When the incredible, air-splitting boom—that shook their entire world—finally subsided, the Dark Lord was revealed to be on his knees, the yellow shield barely holding on, and looking more translucent than ever.

That remained only until Harry suddenly surged forward, getting close and personal, and lay in a heavy punch straight into the Dark Lord's jaw.

There was no magic to sense here, no warning incoming. The yellow shield fell apart and the Dark Lord squawked like a confused pigeon. But right when he was about to eat a naked fist to his mouth, shadows surged forward from the dark night itself, combining to encase his head under a sheen of matte black mask that made Harry's fist go right through his head, as if hitting smoke.

Harry came to a bewildered halt, but the Dark Lord had already backed away, the black mask dropping to show a bloodied mouth, as if the punch did land. 

Grindelwald turned slight, and spat out a tooth. "You hit like a truck, boy. Not that I've ever known. Until now."

Then, with a tilted head, he asked, "Would you like to join me?"

But Harry wasn't looking. Completely unconcerned, he picked James up on his shoulders and carried him back, leaving a confused Dark Lord behind.

Behind them, the elemental monster finally broke apart under the combined might of Bella, Moody, and Minister Bones, dissipating back into the air in the form of pure magic.

Harry placed James down on a safe spot, and quickly came beside her.

"Lil—"

She gave him no chance to speak. Even as exhausted as she was, she threw her arms around his neck and released all her worries, relief—and a bundle of emotions that she couldn't quite recognize but made her heart feel on fire—in the form of peppering kisses all over his face, never wanting to let go.

A part of her was sure he would push her away now, so when he opened his mouth—to protest, no doubt—she shut him up with a final kiss.

She didn't know what made her do it exactly, but at that moment, feeling the surrealism of the situation, mixing in with the relief at Harry being safe, made her feel like she'd never felt before.

And she simply let go, sagging under the protective arms of her son as they enclosed around her in acceptance.

"I'm glad you're safe." Harry whispered against her lips, holding her body as it slowly lost strength.

Only then did the thought of the rest of her family enter her mind.

'Jacob! James!'

Like a bucket of cold water splashing upon her face, she jerked straight up.

"We have to save the others." She managed to get out.

Harry pointed beside them, and Lily turned to see James' body being treated by Alice.

'Oh'. She'd forgotten Harry brought him back. The weakness in her body extended to her mind; tired and sleepy as it was.

Then she remembered her other son again.

"Jacob!" She exclaimed, pushing herself back on feet. "Voldemort...we need to stop..."

Harry pointed again.

Only then did her eyes takein the rest of the world. Bella, Moody, and Bones had come to stand beside them, solemn and grim in their visage, their shoulders slumped in defeat.

Three unfamiliar young women—two with astonishing beauty that would've, at normal times, made her jealous at their connection with Harry—stood beside them, their eyes grimly staring forward—just like the others.

And then she realised...Grindelwald was gone, now standing back besides the cauldron. And in front of him, with slits for nose and completely pale, stood a man of unnatural features, slowly caressing his bald skull with a gratified moan.

"Voldemort is back" Minister Bones verbalised all of their fears in a depressed whisper. "Oh Merlin, Voldemort is back."

"We've failed."

------------------------------------

Jacob Potter blinked his eyes open, squinting at the bright light glaring upon his face. 'Where....?'

Blinking to clear his bleary eyes, he tried peering past the glare of the fire—which was now discomforting to his eyes—but found only a dirty old cauldron staring back at him.

Trying to sit up failed as well, bringing him to a horrible realization as he found himself unable to move.

‘I’ve been kidnapped.’

Thick ropes were wrapped around his hands and legs, while he laid upon the ground sideways.

‘I’ve been bloody kidnapped.’

He tried struggling free of his bonds but gave up halfway, losing all will.

‘Of course, I’m kidnapped. Only this remained in the list of things that could go wrong in the life of Jacob Potter.’

Absently, he tried to remember the last thing….

He was fighting those...Death Eaters? Alliance members? He couldn’t quite know, considering he didn’t get a chance to see his assailants before he was taken down.

‘Just bloody perfect.’ He sneered.

It was a painful reminder. What he'd thought was his chance to shine turned out to be another recent example of utter embarrassment for him.

He thought back to his dreams; the childish imaginations that he would let himself indulge each night before sleep…

‘Well…I guess, welcome to reality Jacob.’ He chuckled silently, heart hollow and cold, and mind completely drained of fucks to give.

‘My wand..?’ A sudden thought startled him.

Scowling, he maneuvered his arms to pat his pockets, but found nothing; his wand missing.

'What now?'

He didn't need to wonder for long however, as his bonds suddenly vanished and a pair of smooth hands manhandled him around to force his face up.

He wished they hadn't. Wished he'd lived on in ignorance a little while longer. For the unnaturally pale face that greeted his eyes would fuel his nightmares for the rest of his life.

With a face as pale as milk, a nose as flat as a snake's, and scarlet eyes as bright as blood; the smiling visage of Voldemort stared down at him with unmatched triumph and glee.

"Jacob Potter....." The newly risen Dark Lord hissed, voice smooth as silk. "The-Boy-Who-Lived..."

The moment their eyes met however, Voldemort froze in place, staring perplexed as if encountering a puzzle. Like a dam slowly bursting from the pressure, the red eyes became more and more livid by the second.

"You're not the one I marked." The words were snarled out absently, a confused note inside them.

Yet, the moment they were verbalized, the Dark Lord's anger exploded. "You're not the boy who lived that day!"

Enraged, he whirled around. "Sirius! I trust you have an explanation for this?"

"M-my lord?"

"Crucio!"

Jacob flinched as the man's painful howls filled up the air.

"Where is he!? Where is the boy!?" The Dark Lord snarled, before suddenly, in a malicious tone that sent shivers down Jacob's spine, he purred. "Ah...there you are."

Only then did Jacob realize that he was free. Scrambling to his feet, he turned around quickly, but came to a stop as his eyes took in the apocalyptic scene.

The once whole quidditch pitch was now a barren land riddled with cracks and splinters.

Yet, Jacob dismissed it a second later, his eyes finding his family while his mind scrambled to process what the monster had just revealed.

"The green-eyed little whelp....I remember you well. Harry Potter, was it? The-Boy-Who-Lived.... it's time to die."

Now Jacob understood.

As his eyes pinned upon his green-eyed twin, holding onto their mother like Jacob never had, he finally understood.

But oh how he wished he hadn't. How he wished his entire world hadn't come to the brink of collapse…

Something that he'd always taken for granted, something that had become his identity...was now being taken away from him.

And what does one become, when their identity is taken away? Who was he now, if not The-Boy-Who-Lived? Who exactly was Jacob Potter!?

He didn't doubt Voldemort's words for a second. Of course not. How could he? When the Dark Lord simply confirmed Jacob's biggest nightmare. Something that had always been in the back of his mind, brewing in silence but too heavy to verbalize.

But now he found it only too natural.

The fact that his biggest nightmare was now his reality…it was all so very unsurprising.

His life had been one wrought with misery anyway....why not just go all-in and destroy even the little semblance of meaning that had still remained? Seemed like something his fate would do.

His thoughts—stuck in a constant downward spiral—fell to the bottom thoroughly when another horrifying realization took form within his mind.

'This is the reason why mum and dad always preferred him...because they knew.'

James and Lily had always held Harry in a special position, putting him upon a pedestal that Jacob believed he didn't deserve.

But now that he knew the truth, now that he knew the reason, Jacob realised that Harry did deserve it...after all, he was quite special. Unlike him.

And his parents knew. They knew...and they didn't tell.

They knew... they'd always known. But now? So did he.

The reason why they always preferred Harry over him, the reason why Jacob was always their last priority, the reason why they never tried to understand him, why they always held him an arm's length away...Jacob now knew all of that and more.

This day was turning out to be the one where Potter family's darkest secrets slowly come to light. And Jacob was beginning to enjoy it.....

Because for the first time in his life, he realized he no longer cared. He no longer cared about his name, no longer cared about being perfect, no longer cared about being better...no longer cared about his family.

'If they wish to treat me like a stranger? A stranger I shall be. To them and to the rest of the world.'

He wasn't the Boy-Who-Lived now. He was simply....Jacob.

"Now now Tom, before you indulge....” Grindelwald's mocking voice broke into Jacob's mind—brewing within him a new idea. “We must settle this little business of our...old partnership."

The other Dark Lord tugged his sleeves up, showing something that seemed to visibly surprise Voldemort.

And anyone who can surprise Voldemort was great in Jacob’s book.

"…How?" The Dark Lord whispered, his thoughts discernible.

"What?” Grindelwald scoffed. “You think you’re the only Parselmouth in the world, child?”

A tense silence seemed to encompass the destroyed pitch as the two behemoths stared at each other.

Then, slowly—as if comforting a snake—Grindelwald extended his arm, his head tilted. “Would you care to join again, Tom? No oaths, no bonds this time. Simply two Lords working for our own goals. For what we feel is right.”

With his pale face glinting ominously under the fire’s rays, the Dark Lord stared down the older one silently.

Then, with a dramatically slow yet graceful motion of his wand, he chuckled. “What I think, Grindelwald...”

It happened faster than Jacob’s eyes could follow. One moment they faced each other down, the next Grindelwald leaped away from the green flames that suddenly gushed out from Voldemort’s bone-white wand in a straight path, getting too close to Jacob—who scrambled away quickly, stuck between awe and panic—melting the old cauldron in a scant few seconds.

“…Is that no two Lords can exist together.” Voldemort hissed, his wand curling up to point at himself. “And I am, and always have been, your one true merciful Dark Lord.”

There was a darkness in Grindelwald’s eyes now. Darkness with the same malicious glint as Voldemort. “So be it, child. Your death will be regrettable… but for the Greater Good, I must do what is right.”

The spectators of the confrontation suddenly backed away like scared rats. Jacob could even see his dearest brother forcefully dragging Lily and Aunt Bella towards the stadium’s entrance—his face a sculpture of cold composure, showing no hints of the rage that bubbled within him at the newly risen Dark Lord.

Before the two behemoths could truly tear the place apart however, a sudden flash of fire announced the arrival of a bespectacled wizard, dressed in startling shades of white and grey, a fiery bird perched upon his shoulder.

"Madam Bones, I apologize for the delay." The Supreme Mugwump announced himself, bowing slightly at the Minister. “Your Patronus reached me far too late, I’m afraid. I won’t say no to one of those excellent cards, if Mrs. Potter would let me have one.”

With that, Dumbledore turned to the two suddenly cautious Dark Lords, peering at them from above his spects. “Tom, Gellert...you should not have come here. Leave.”

Then, his wand raised to point at the sky—startling the two Dark Lords—and a beam of pure white flew towards the sky, hitting something invisible.

"All of you." Dumbledore addressed, giving a small glance at the audience. “You are free to leave. The wards are no more.”

The two Dark Lords seemed to bristle at his tone.

"Ah, Albus! Finally here to save your little wizards?” Grindelwald chuckled, bitterness hidden under his biting tone. “How does it feel to use a stolen wand, I wonder?"

Dumbledore tilted his head. "Quite comforting, though I must admit my dislike for its rather hard handle."

Another tense silence ensued, broken only by the cracks of disapparitions as the background wizards left one by one.

"You old men may have your lovers spat.” Voldemort stepped back, sneering. “I will be taking my leave."

He halted for a brief second, shooting a glance at Harry. "Count your days, Potter. We shall meet soon.”

Then he disappeared away with the softest of cracks, leaving his Death Eaters behind to scramble after him.

Grindelwald chuckled, shaking his head. “Well, we are all tired. I believe a break is in order.”

Smirking at the gathered English wizards, he gave a short bow. “You all fought wonderfully. And I extend a warm welcome, should anyone wish to join me. Even should you need protection from Voldemort; I take care of my own.”

The last was aimed at Harry, who opened his mouth to reply but was beaten by another woman—of course his brother would’ve another woman—at his side. “You should stop lying! It doesn’t suit you.”

Eyebrows shooting up, Grindelwald squinted past the low light. “Stella? I…I’m glad you live. I hadn’t held hopes, after watching the boy fight. Though you seem to have made your decision.”

Sighing, the last remaining Dark Lord turned away. “I believe that shall be all for today.”

Minister Bones suddenly stepped forward beside Dumbledore. “We can take him down, Albus! Together, it won’t even be a challenge!”

But Dumbledore simply held an arm up. “Patience, my dear Minister. It is not the time yet.”

Just as the Dark Lord prepared to Disapparate however, Jacob’s mind settled upon a sudden, reckless decision right on the spot, and he found himself screaming, “Wait!”

Grindelwald stopped, glancing back. “Oh? Something to say, little one?”

‘This is a bad decision! This is a bad decision! Abort! Mission abort!’ A small, logical part of him screamed.

And yet, Jacob found his legs quickly making for the Dark Lord, his will firm. For the first time in his life, Jacob knew exactly what to do. He had no identity….so he must make one.

'And if this turns out to be the biggest mistake of your life?' The logical part asked. 

Well...he had nothing to lose anymore. So why would it matter?

There was nothing more to think as he soon found himself standing in front of Grindelwald. The weight behind the Dark Lord’s gaze was heavy and judging, yet Jacob stood tall and unshaking.

“I’m coming with you.” He announced, only to cringe at the shaky crack in his voice.

Well, not quite as unshaking then….

“Jacob, no!” Came the screams from behind, and not a single one either. But Jacob found his heart hollow for them, not able to summon even the slightest bit of anger at their hypocrisy.

The Dark Lord on the other hand, simply stayed still, staring at him as if gazing at an interesting bug. “Are you absolutely sure, child?”

Only one voice managed to break through the group, a voice that had always seemed so strong and knowing, a voice he’d come to love and hate….his father’s voice, marred with an audible crack.

“…Jacob…please son…”

Teeth gritting, he forced himself to look behind him, at his father’s withered face, marred with strange black lines around his throat that seemed to be growing quickly.

“…James, don’t stress yourself please!” Alice’s voice yelled in the background, “You’re only making this worse!...Lily, hold him back….shit! He’s going fast, someone make him relax! But don't use magic!....”

Jacob heard no more. For if he did, he knew he might change his decision.

“Yes.”

Grindelwald smiled, extending his arm.

Jacob took one last glance behind him; at the sad face of Dumbledore, the angry and judging faces of people he knew and loved, the breathless and gasping face of his father….and finally at the cold, composed face of his twin….or was that a bit of regret he saw? But no, how could his perfect brother, with his perfect life, understand the little old Jacob?

‘No one can.’

And he took the Dark Lord’s hand.

------------------------------------

AN: And the World Cup arc is finally over! Let me know your thoughts! Also, apologies for being a couple of hours late but it is almost 9k words so....hope the wait was worth it!

Now Baldemort is back! And the Ministry's taken a massive hit, losing both their head of Aurors and head of Hit-wizards. Everything has gone to shit and you'll be seeing the aftermath in the next chapter....along with some surprise smut. Or maybe not so surprising heh.

In any case, let me know your thoughts on the chapter, and Harry vs Grindelwald as well. Did he seem more powerful all of a sudden? Do keep in mind that his raw power is around Grindelwald's level.

Also, I wrote/edited quite a few things at the last moment, so if anything feels rushed/not up to par, let me know.

That was all for today. Till next time, have fun and take care!