HP: Night of the Wolf

It was not often his job granted him an evening of respite, especially during the trying times the world was currently facing. Of course, it was the Germans once again causing problems, the Austrian leading them much of the worry of Europe at present.

He was a hateful fellow, one who found himself in power through the desperation of a country that felt they had been punished harshly over the past three decades.

Perhaps they had been.

The treaty they had been forced to sign had not been kind to them, had crippled their economy, and resulted in uprising.

Little by little, Hitler fought against the agreement, and sooner or later, something would have to give.

The Prime Minister released a laboured breath.

Were war to break out, he would likely need to step down. He was under no illusions that he was the right man to lead the country during such times.

He could only hope that conflict could be avoided and that the Germans could be appeased with minimal overtures granted to them.

He frowned as his fireplace flared an emerald green, and his stomach sunk.

The appearance of one of them in his office never boded well.

"Neville," the other Minister greeted him.

"Hector," he returned cordially, though he remained guarded.

"Can I pop through for a chat?"

"You're going to anyway," Neville muttered, beckoning the man to enter.

"It's always polite to ask," Fawley chuckled as he did so and took the seat on the opposite side of the desk.

"So, what is it now?" Neville asked, not in the mood for pleasantries.

This made it twice already during his short tenure as Prime Minister he had been visited by his wizarding counterpart.

He had been assured that it would likely never happen, but here the man was once again.

Wizards indeed.

When he had been first visited, he had thought he had drunk too much whiskey during the celebrations of newly acquired position and had put the event down to a drunken stupor, yet here he found himself again.

Neville prided himself on being a composed man, but the thought of a secret society of people able to use magic was as worrying as he had believed to be preposterous.

"Bad news chap," Fawley huffed. "We are going to be closing the borders for the most part to visitors from the continent. Something is happening over there, and it could spell disaster."

"Not the bloody Germans, is it?" Neville asked.

Fawley shook his head.

"No, not yet at least. It's the Czechoslovakians and Bulgarians. We believe they have been taken over by a very dangerous man. I am awaiting a full report from our governing body to confirm it."

"So, what do you want me to do about it?"

"Nothing," Fawley replied simply. "I believe you have your own problems to attend to."

Neville nodded sagely.

"The Krauts," he acknowledged. "That little bugger Hitler is causing more problems than I'd like. There'll be war if it carries on. I'm doing all I can to avoid it, but there's only so much I can allow to happen. We can't afford it, and the people will not like it. Us Brits have long memories, Fawley, and the last war lost us too many men."

"I understand," Fawley sympathised. "We too went to war and lost many, and I fear that another is on the horizon, but what can we do?"

"Chin up, stiff upper lip and all that," Neville snorted. "Anyway, if that is all?"

Fawley nodded as he stood.

"I do hope that we need not see each other again, Chamberlain," he said before disappearing into the flames.

"As do I," Neville grumbled. "I've got my own problems to deal with, I don't need yours too."

(Break)

"Well, your report coincides with what I had already been told," Federov confirmed, a frown creasing his brow. "What a damned mess this turned into."

Harry nodded his agreement.

"I don't know what the hell they were thinking, but it didn't end well."

Federov grunted.

"You'll be pleased to know that Garcia had his licence revoked."

"Good, the idiot nearly got us all killed."

"He did, and he cost his team dearly," Federov sighed. "In a moment of stupidity, he saw only the chance of capturing Kotova and Caputo. You know, you made quite the impression on Ghost and the rest of his team."

"They made one on me too, just not a good one," Harry muttered.

"I understand," Federov assured him, "but you have to remember Evans, not everyone is like you. It takes a certain kind of witch or wizard to do this job alone. Many that try do not last more than a year or so, or they end up joining a team. It's safer that way."

Harry shook his head.

"Not with idiots like Garcia it isn't."

Federov released a deep sigh.

"Garcia acted rashly and with emotion. I will make no excuse for his foolishness, but that was not the first time his path had crossed with Kotova. Four-years-ago, Kotova murdered Garcia's wife. She too was a Hit-Wizard, and he of course did not take it well."

"I didn't know that," Harry huffed.

"And why would you? We do not encourage sharing our personal lives, but I can only assume he wished for his revenge and was not thinking clearly."

"I can't imagine what he went through."

"No, and that is why I operated alone also."

"You were a Hit-Wizard?" Harry asked curiously.

He hadn't considered that the man had been, though in hindsight, he probably should have.

"I was," Federov confirmed. "For nineteen years I travelled the world doing what you are now. They were the most difficult but rewarding years of my life, and then I was offered this job, do you want to know why?"

Harry frowned but gestured for the man to continue.

"Because I survived," he snorted. "During my years I saw and heard of many joining the department, and most either lost their lives, realised they weren't cut out for this, or they broke under the strain the job can bring. Me, I thrived in it, I was careful, and I kept going until I knew the time was right for me to leave the field. When I did, my superior offered me his position and I started the next day. He went on to retire and now lives in Portugal."

"It seems like you're looking forward to that," Harry replied with a smirk.

"One day I'll get tired of this and take my own retirement, but that day isn't today," Federov pointed out. "Now, there is the matter of reporting your findings to the ICW. Under normal circumstances, I would do that myself, but I'd like you to speak with them."

"Why?"

"Because you were there, Evans," Federov said simply. "I need to be able to explain why there were casualties on our side, and you deserve the recognition of saving the lives of your colleagues. You had every right to maintain your cover, and no one would have thought any less of you, but you didn't do that. You stepped up, and it takes guts to do what you did. You threw yourself into the fray, you saved lives, and you even killed the sixth most wanted person on our list. If that doesn't deserve recognition, I don't know what does."

"You're not going to take no for an answer, are you?"

"Not this time," Federov returned with a grin. "Evans, what you did was exceptional. Let me tell you, most in your position would not have done it, even those that have been doing this job for many more years than yourself."

"I just did what I could."

"And that was more than enough in this situation. I have made it no secret that I was reluctant to approve your licence, but I can admit when I was wrong. Already, you have proven your capability in the job, and I am looking forward to seeing you grow. Now, I'll be in touch soon with details about the meeting with the confederation, for now, claim your reward for killing Caputo, and enjoy a day or so to yourself. You've earned it," Federov declared, handing Harry a slip of parchment.

"Seven-hundred galleons?" he asked, surprised by the amount.

Federov nodded.

"The Italians would have preferred him alive, but he's not a problem for them anymore, so they're very happy with you."

Harry could only shrug.

In the moment he'd cast the spell that had killed Caputo, he knew there had been no way he would be able to capture him and hand him over. Instead, he'd killed him, and when he looked back on his decision, he was surprised at how easily he'd made that choice.

A part of him felt deeply concerned by this, but there was another part that felt satisfied that he'd done the right thing at the right time.

In truth, not having seen the man die meant that he could distance himself from the act somewhat, and he wasn't sure how he felt about that.

"Oh, and just one more thing, Evans," Federov broke into his thoughts as Harry made to take his leave. "Did you ever find the man the provoked that reaction from the aurors?"

Harry shook his head.

"No. I can only imagine he made his escape during the chaos."

Federov nodded his understanding.

"Then he shall remain a mystery," he chuckled, eying Harry with a hint of amusement. "If by chance you do come across him again, tell him not to be so damned stupid in the future."

"I'll be sure to pass on the message if I see him," Harry agreed before exiting the room.

He had not been best pleased with Scamander, and the man had incurred quite the dressing down from Harry for his part in what had happened.

What on earth was a magizoologist thinking of involving himself in this?

That had been one of the first questions he'd asked, and the answer he'd received was not one he'd expected.

Scamander had met Grindelwald some ten years prior, and the man had killed his best friend.

If that wasn't motivation enough to involve himself, then nothing else would be.

Still, Harry had told him to stay away, to return home to his wife and son.

There was nothing here for Newt other than the chance of getting himself killed, something that had almost happened the moment he'd arrived in Prague.

Harry hoped he would listen, but only time would tell on that front.

If anything, he should stick to running the zoo he kept in that spectacular suitcase of his, even if the erumpent he kept was frighteningly familiar in nature.

However, if Newt was so easily influenced by Dumbledore and in need of revenge, Harry couldn't help but think that he would be seeing him again.

(Break)

Albus had not expected to see Newt so soon after their last meeting, but here he was, and judging by his demeanour, his trip to the continent had not been a pleasant one.

"What happened Newt?" he asked gently.

Newt released a deep breath as he shook his head.

"They attacked me, Albus," he explained. "Within seconds of entering the magical district in Prague, the aurors were chasing me. They knew I was coming."

"That is unfortunate," Albus replied, "but I am pleased that you managed to escape."

"Escape?" Newt snorted. "I didn't escape, Albus, I was rescued."

"Rescued?" Albus asked, surprised by the revelation. "By whom?"

Newt shrugged.

"He was a Hit-Wizard that goes be the name 'The Serpent'. If it wasn't for him, I'd be dead."

Albus offered his former student a sorrowful smile.

"I'm not sure I understand just what happened. Would you be able to share the memory with me?"

Newt nodded and added the silvery strand to the vial Albus provided.

"I don't know what happened, but it was as though they were expecting me."

Dumbledore nodded.

"I suspect Gellert would have had people looking out for you. It would not be the first time you had interfered in his affairs, albeit unintentionally the first time around."

"He did," Newt agreed. "As soon as the aurors saw me, they attacked."

"That is unfortunate," Dumbledore sighed. "Would you like to join me? I must ask Armando if I may borrow his pensieve to view this."

Newt nodded and followed, and Albus felt a stab of guilt that he had almost gotten the man killed.

He had expected Gellert would be too preoccupied to look out for him, a mistake on his part that could have had dire consequences.

"I would very much like to speak to the headmaster," he said to the gargoyle as he and Newt reached it.

After a moment, the guardian stepped aside to allow them entry and the duo ascended the staircase.

"Come in, Albus," Armando called.

"I don't suppose he will be happy to see me," Newt muttered with a tired smile.

"He has a long memory," Albus replied with a chuckle as pushed open the door to the office.

"Albus, what can I do… Scamander? What are you doing here?"

"He is here at my invitation, Armando," Albus answered. "Newt has been assisting me with a pressing matter and I was wondering if I may borrow your pensieve for a few moments?"

Dippet frowned but gestured for Albus to do so, and whilst he busied himself viewing the memory, he stared at the former Hufflepuff speculatively.

"I remember the day you were expelled," he sighed. "One of only three students that have met that fate since I have been headmaster."

"I admit that nursing such a creature was a risk…"

"No, it was reckless, dangerous, and you were very fortunate that you were caught. Had you not been and the creature broke free, it could have injured or killed many within the castle."

"But it didn't," Newt pointed out.

"No, it didn't," Armando acknowledged, a ghost of a smirk tugging at his lips. "Do you still have it?"

"I do," Newt confirmed. "She is as sweet now as she was then."

"But around ten times the size?"

Newt nodded.

"She's a big girl, a little too friendly with some people."

Armando chuckled.

"Despite your unfortunate ending to your education here, I am proud of what you have achieved, Scamander. Not many can tame a creature such as an erumpent."

"She was easy compared to the nundu and thunderbird I have."

Armando shook his head.

"I said it once and I'll say it again, you're a lunatic Scamander, and quite a terrifying man in your own right. I can only imagine the havoc you could wreak should you wish to."

"I would never…"

"I know," Dippet assured him, "and I'm grateful that you're as mild-mannered as you are. Your talent for winning creatures over is something I have never seen before. I think the world should be as grateful as I that you're the way you are."

Newt did not have a chance to respond. In that moment, Albus returned from his venture into the pensieve, pale and shaking his head ruefully.

"I think perhaps you should see it, Armando," he sighed.

Armando frowned questioningly, but Albus held up a hand.

"You'll understand why when you do."

Armando shot his deputy a final look before doing so, and Albus took a seat next to the desk.

"A terrible business," he declared. "I am sorry that you had to endure that. Had I thought for a moment that would happen, I would not have asked for your help."

"Well, I know not to return," Newt replied with a shrug. "It all happened so fast."

Albus nodded.

"We are fortunate he was there. Were he not, I dread to think what would have happened to you and the others."

"Do you know him?" Newt asked curiously.

"I do. He is quite the exceptional young man," Albus said with a smile. "Did you speak with him much?"

"For a while," Newt confirmed. "I showed him around my suitcase, and even gave him an egg for helping me."

"What kind of egg?" Albus asked, concern evident in his voice.

"One that he would do a much better job of raising than me," Newt answered. "Parselmouths are rare, and he will be able to help it in ways I that cannot."

"What egg did you give him, Newt?" Dumbledore pressed.

"I'm not certain," Newt replied. "I found the egg years ago, and the only thing I do know is that it is a serpent one. I thought it was dead, but he said he could feel something alive in there."

"Then it could be anything?"

"I suppose it could," Newt acknowledged, "but I do not think it is anything dangerous, not a basilisk at least. I've seen those eggs, and it is nothing like one of those."

Dumbledore breathed a sigh of relief, though it was a small allowance with what he had witnessed in the pensieve.

"Dear me," Armando sighed as he emerged from the stone basin. "He could've been killed, the bloody fool."

"Wait, you know him?" Newt broke in.

"He is a recent graduate," Armando explained, "an incredible young man, don't you think?"

"He's certainly that," Dumbledore muttered worriedly. "I didn't expect that he would be embroiled in Gellert's efforts so soon."

"Neither did I," Armando sighed. "It does make me wonder if that was his intention all along."

Dumbledore nodded thoughtfully.

"I do hope not. Harry cannot possibly understand just how dangerous he is."

Dippet snorted derisively.

"I think he would surprise him, Albus," he returned, "but I do not like what I saw. I suppose we can only hope that it is an isolated incident."

Albus shook his head.

"No, Gellert will have taken a keen interest in him, of that I am certain. He is a parselmouth and gifted wizard. Gellert will either want him on side, or he will have him killed if he proves to be a problem."

"Then he'd better be prepared to do it himself," Armando replied. "After what I saw in there, it will be no easy task."

Dumbledore released a deep breath.

"I hope it doesn't come to that."

"As do I," Armando huffed. "I will write to him, Albus. It has been too long since I saw him last already. Perhaps we can convince him to not involve himself further."

"Perhaps," Albus agreed.

"I'm sorry, excuse me, but who is he?" Newt asked.

"A student that we both grew fond of," Albus explained. "I will not share his name, but you are fortunate he was there. He took great risk in saving your life. That is the better side of him."

"He has another?"

Albus nodded.

"He does, and one that is not so pleasant to see. That is all I will say on the matter."

"I understand, but when you see him, thank him for me again. Without him, I would not be returning to my wife and son."

"And how is Tina?" Albus asked.

"She is doing well. I don't expect I will be able to say the same for myself when I tell her what happened. You can't keep secrets from an auror."

Dumbledore chuckled.

"No, especially not one who knows you so well. Congratulations on the birth of your son, and please, don't be a stranger."

"I won't," Newt promised, offering both men a nod before exiting the office.

"He didn't bring that suitcase with him, did he?" Armando asked worriedly.

"I believe that it was in his pocket the whole time," Albus said amusedly.

"Then I'd best have the castle searched to ensure nothing escaped."

(Break)

To my heir,

I have been helpfully informed of how you are running the family in my absence, and though I am surprised by some of your actions, I must say that I am impressed.

Selwyn on the other hand, is not.

It brings a smile to my face to see the swine so miserable.

Anyway, I digress.

The reason for this letter concerns a matter of great importance. An unexpected development has occurred, and it could have some rather deep ramifications if it is not handled correctly.

A parselmouth has surfaced on the continent, and as you well know, the only known speakers in Europe hail from England.

If you were paying attention to your lessons, you will know that I am referring to the Gaunts.

The problem lies in the issue I am having identifying this man. From my knowledge, I cannot fathom how this one can be related to them, and that is where you come in.

I need for you to visit the Gaunts to investigate the matter.

They reside in a small village named Little Hangelton, their house little more than a shack since they lost their wealth some generations ago.

You can find the address for them in the little black book in my study.

I cannot express the importance of this, Arcturus. You must speak with whatever Gaunts remain to find out who this man is.

I am relying on you.

I will be reachable for only the next 7 days by owl and expect to hear from you soon.

Lord Orion Black

The letter had arrived two days ago.

Arcturus had been surprised to receive the missive from his father, and perhaps a little hopeful that he was showing some concern for him and Dorea.

The man had not even mentioned the girl, nor did he enquire as to how they were.

Still, to keep what little peace remained between them, and to sate his own curiosity, he had ventured to Little Hangelton, but as he looked upon the small, rundown shack surrounded by the overgrown shrubbery, he thought the place had been abandoned.

Only the fresh snake corpse nailed to the front door gave any indication that someone was living here.

"Who are you? What do you want?" a gruff voice demanded.

Squinting, Arcturus could make out the top part of a figure glaring at him from within the tall grass, his face dirty and beard unkempt. If it wasn't for the glint of the knife he carried in one hand, he would have missed him.

"Are you Gaunt?" he asked.

"Who wants to know?"

The man's voice was hoarse, his S's drawn out in a serpent-like hiss as he spoke.

"My name is Arcturus Black. I have come to speak to you about a member of your family."

The man shook his head.

"I have no family left. It's just me here now."

"I heard about your father. You have my condolences for your loss."

Gaunt shrugged indifferently.

"Died in Azkaban didn't he. Not much to say about it."

"And what about your sister?"

"Gone. Took the necklace when we were away. There's nothing left. Just me, the ring, and the snakes."

"Gone?" Arcturus questioned.

"Ran away the stupid bitch. I thought she'd come back, but she's probably dead too."

So, this was the last of the Gaunts, a once great and respected house reduced to a man living like an uncouth savage.

"No uncles or anything?"

"I said I was the last one, didn't I?" Gaunt spat.

"Well, another parselmouth has emerged on the continent," Arcturus replied, ignoring his lack of decorum. "With your family being the only known speakers, I thought he would be a relative of yours."

Gaunt frowned.

"No, not ours," he returned confusedly. "Father didn't have any more sprogs, and I haven't got any."

"What about your sister?"

"Maybe."

"How long ago did she run away?"

"Couldn't be more than twelve or thirteen years ago."

"Not hers then," Arcturus mumbled.

It made no sense, there simply had to be a connection, unless there was another divergence of the Slytherin line that no one knew about."

"This speaker, is he my family?" Gaunt asked.

He neither seemed pleased nor angry by the prospect, but merely matter of fact.

"I think he must be somehow, not unless you know of any other family that are speakers?"

Gaunt shook his head.

"Just us. It's been like that for generations."

The sibilance was beginning to unnerve Arcturus, but his curiosity had been piqued.

He wanted to know who this mystery parselmouth was.

"Then I don't know what to say," he sighed. "He's a Hit-Wizard, that's all I know."

Gaunt shook his.

"He can't be one of mine. They're all dead," he reiterated.

The man was confused. The years he'd spent in Azkaban and seemingly living in solitude as he did having evidently addled his brains.

Or he had never quite been all there.

He'd heard how inbred the Gaunts had become.

"Then I'm sorry for wasting your time," Arcturus called.

Gaunt scowled at him but said nothing more before disappearing into the foliage surrounding the shack, and Arcturus took his first grateful steps away from the property.

The last Gaunt was an odd man, but he had been truthful.

He knew nothing of the parselmouth of which his father had written.

Arcturus wondered if the man hadn't had one of his strange episodes when he had written the letter.

He had his doubts.

As disturbed as Orion Black had become, he had never fabricated anything that hadn't happened, and the only time he would have was if his condition had worsened.

Had it?

Arcturus knew not, and if truth be told, the way his father had acted left him with little sympathy for the man.

He'd made his choices, and they did not involve Arcturus or Dorea.

Out of respect for the father that had raised him, he had looked into what he'd been asked to.

Now, however, without any further leads, there was nothing else that could be done, and he would inform the man of such.

Arcturus had more important things to focus on other than the anomaly that was this parselmouth.

In the absence of his father, he had a family to manage.

The Lord Black, only in name, would have to carry out his own investigation into the matter from now on.

Although Arcturus was curious, he did not have the leisurely time to do so.

Things of greater importance required his attention.

(Break)

It was not often that Rosalina Nott was summoned to see her brother. With her teaching duties, and him running the family, they usually kept their time together limited to Christmas, and the occasional birthday.

So, it was odd that he had asked her to join him when it was neither.

The home she had grown up in was a grim one. The décor was rather foreboding, something she learned as a child was done intentionally to unsettle the other visiting lords when they came to discuss business.

The walls were painted a slate grey, the dark wood flooring doing little to brighten the house, the only light coming from the fitted sconces and fireplaces throughout.

As such, it wasn't homely in the traditional sense.

"Rosie!" her sister-in-law greeted her, a little too enthusiastically.

"Hello Sandra," Rosalina replied, cringing as the woman pulled her in an embrace. "Where's Joseph?"

"Joe is in his study," Sandra replied, looping her arm through Rosalina's, and leading the way.

"Any idea what this is about?"

Sandra shook her head.

"I don't, but he is keen to see you. He says you may be able to help him with some enquiries he is making."

Rosalina frowned.

She did not involve herself in family affairs as a rule. As an educator, she needed to be as neutral as possible. The headmaster had been very clear on that when he offered her the role.

The study her brother occupied was only made less grim by the roaring fire in the hearth and the single lamp on his desk. When they entered, he was poring over a stack of parchment, a pipe hanging from his lips that had seemed to have gone out.

Rosalina cleared her throat to get his attention.

"Rosie," he acknowledged her presence with a nod, puffing on the pipe that emitted no smoke.

The Lord Nott tutted before relighting it using the tip of his wand.

"What can I do for you?" she asked.

Joseph hummed thoughtfully as he stared at his sister.

"You know, it is a shame that you never married," he said.

"I would have made a terrible wife."

Joseph chuckled as he nodded his agreement.

"That is true, and that is why I didn't try to force you on anyone, for your sake and theirs, but that isn't why I asked you here. I received a letter from Orion only yesterday, a curious one to say the least. Here, have a read."

Rosalina accepted the letter, her chest tightening as she did as she was bid.

Dear Joe,

I hope this finds you well.

I am writing to you as a friend, and also as the Lord of my family, the first more so than the second.

I cannot say much of what I am doing because I know that it will put us at odds with one another, something I do not wish to happen.

However, I must be frank with you about something I recently learned.

There is a parselmouth, a young one that has appeared on the continent.

I have my son looking into the matter, and if he turns out to not be a Gaunt as I suspect, then I have no explanation as to his origins.

I have already established that he is a young Englishman, that much I could gather through the simple viewing of a memory. It appears that he is also a Hit-Wizard for the ICW, but that is all I know for certain.

I have no indication of where he came from, and if truth be told, he does not resemble Marvolo or any of his lot.

Any information you can gather would be much appreciated.

He has already made an enemy of many, so I do not suspect he is long for this world, but on a personal level, I am intrigued, as I'm sure you will be.

All the best, old friend,

Orion Sirius Black

Evans.

The only person this could be was her protégé whom she hadn't seen since the summer. He explained that he would be out of touch for some time, and that he would write when he could, but little else.

"All I need to know from you is if there has been anyone that has passed through Hogwarts recently that could be this man?" Joseph broke in.

Rosalina shook her head.

She didn't know what Evans had gotten himself mixed up in, but this wasn't good.

"No, not any student comes to mind."

Joseph sighed.

"I was afraid you would say that. I don't suppose it really matters. If he has chosen to be a Hit-Wizard, he certainly doesn't have his sights on a political position. Orion doesn't believe he is a Gaunt, but as the only European parselmouths, there must be a connection there somewhere," he added thoughtfully. "Never mind, forget I mentioned it. I thought I'd just check with you out of interest."

Rosalina felt herself filled with relief and she was pleased her brother did not seem so curious that he would dig deeper into it.

She had become protective of Harry, though the boy didn't really need it, she felt a sense of duty to keep him safe from any that wished him harm.

"It's like I said, I can't think of any in the last few years that it could be. There's not been any whose parentage is that much of a mystery."

Joseph nodded his understanding.

"Well, I appreciate you coming. Will we be seeing you for Christmas?"

"I'll be here," Rosalina confirmed. "Will Agnes and the others be coming."

"All of them are," Joseph said with a smile. "We will have a full house this year."

Rosalina's expression mirrored that of her brothers.

It wasn't often the entire family could get together, but it was a nice experience when they did.

Still, her thoughts were far away from the upcoming festive season. She needed to get in touch with Evans to find out just what on Earth he had gotten himself involved with, and if needed, she'd give the boy a piece of her mind.

(Break)

For four days Gellert had waited patiently for the awaited information to reach him. Black's younger son had been little help, only confirming what Orion had already believed.

This parselmouth was not a Gaunt, but if he wasn't a direct descendant of Slytherin himself, then who was he? What line did he hail from?

The only other connection he knew of to the Slytherins was the Peverell family, an incomplete, and broken line spanning the many generations passed.

Could he be one of them?

He frowned deeply, that thought not sitting well with him.

"No, it can't be," he mumbled to himself, his hand wrapping around the shaft of the wand he had liberated from Gregorovitch so many years ago. "Ah, Weber, what took you so long?"

"You have my apologies," the German replied, the dark circles around his eyes indicating a lack of sleep. "I have been working tirelessly to discover who this man is."

"And?"

"I do not know," Weber admitted. "He is a Hit-Wizard that goes by the name The Serpent. He is British, and there have been no reports outside the last surviving Gaunt of any parselmouths being there, save for one potential yet to be confirmed boy, but he is much too young to be this Serpent."

"A boy?" Gellert questioned.

"The bastard son of Gaunt's sister. She ran off with a muggle and sired the boy. I do not think he even knows of his connection to them yet. He grew up in an orphanage."

"How do you know this?"

"It is my job to know things," Weber returned with a rare smirk. "Either this Serpent has kept his ability and heritage a secret, or something is amiss. I have been able to discover nothing else other than the arrests he has made since becoming a Hit-Wizard earlier this year."

"Anything of interest?"

Weber nodded.

"He is very good, Gellert. He took in six goblins and Allman at the same time and has captured seven others. Not bad for one so seemingly inexperienced."

"No, not bad," Gellert agreed. "I'd like you to keep looking, Weber. I want to know everything you can learn about this man. I do not think that was the last we will see of him. The ICW have taken an interest in us, and they will wish to utilise their best assets. He may be one of them. Were we even aware that he was here?"

"We were not," Weber answered, troubled by the realisation. "We knew of the team, but not him. I will ensure he is not overlooked again."

"See that you do, and that I am kept informed of his movements."

"Of course," Weber agreed. "I will pass on the message that our investigation into him is ongoing."

"Good, and Weber? Do get some rest. You are of little use to me deprived of rest or dead."

Weber nodded and left the room.

Gellert shook his head.

It was irritating that his network had not been forthcoming with just who this man was, but in a way, it was exciting.

For the most part, Gellert did not like unknowns. To him, they presented an unnecessary risk to his plans.

The Serpent was such a risk, one that would need to be dealt with one way or another.

"Or perhaps not," he muttered thoughtfully.

(Break)

The chambers of the ICW were not so different to those of the Wizengamot, and as Harry entered, he couldn't help but feel the same way he had when he'd faced trial just before his fifth year of Hogwarts.

As with those of the British ministry, the individuals seated around the circular room were eying him, the sea of faces peering at him staring speculatively. It set Harry on edge.

"I call to order this meeting of the International Confederation of Warlocks dated November 19th, 1937," the Chief Mugwump, a man of Oriental appearance called. "This gathering is closed to the public with the exception of a Hit-Wizard known only as The Serpent. Is that correct."

"It is," Federov confirmed with a bow.

The Chief Mugwump nodded appreciatively.

"We are here to discuss your findings, your actions, and the actions of your peers during your observations in Prague over the course of eleven days dating from the 3rd to the 14th of November. Can you confirm that you were there between these dates?"

"I can," Harry replied.

"Good," the Chief Mugwump declared. "Firstly, I would be remiss in my duties if I did not inform you that prior to this meeting, we viewed the memories of your peers that were involved in the incident that took place on the 14th of November 1937 in which four Hit-Wizards of the ICW sadly lost their lives. We have accepted these memories as being true to events, and untampered. Mr Federov, you can confirm these findings."

"I can, Chief Warlock," Federov returned. "Having viewed them myself, they are a true and accurate account of the reports I received from each witness."

"Then I will open the floor to any questions or statements that any gathered members wish to put forward."

The representative from Italy stood first.

"On behalf of my country, I would like to offer my gratitude to this young man. For nine years, Italy was plagued by Salvatore Caputo and his dangerous potions. With him gone, there are many families that can rest easily now. You not only have my gratitude but the gratitude of the whole of Italy, and with the permission of the Chief Warlock, I would like to bestow upon you the Croce di Guerra al valor militare. With this medal, the whole of Italy will recognise you as a hero."

Harry felt decidedly uncomfortable as the beaming man left his seat and pinned the bronze cross suspended from a blue ribbon to his chest.

The gathered members of the ICW gave him a round of applause, and even Federov gave him an approving smile.

"You earned that," he offered sincerely.

"Usually, these are only given during times of war, but in this case, we made an exception. Even Duce Mussolini approves," the Italian explained.

Harry had heard the name before, but he could not remember when. Perhaps it had been during his time at Muggle school?

"A well-deserved accolade," the Chief Mugwump declared. "With that being said, are there any other statements or questions?"

"I have a question," the representative of Austria called, his expression not a welcoming one. "You are named The Serpent because you are a parselmouth. How is this so? Are you a descendant of the famous Salazar Slytherin?"

"We do not intrude upon the personal lives or identities of our Hit-Wizards," the French representative replied angrily, the sentiment felt by many others who voiced their agreement.

"I was merely curious," the Austrian defended. "Parselmouths are a rare breed."

Harry glared at the man, not appreciating his attempts to pry.

"The question will be stricken from the record," the Chief Mugwump announced, he too glaring at the Austrian representative. "Now, the floor is closed. On behalf of the ICW I would like to thank you for your service, and for your deeds in keeping your colleagues safe at great risk to yourself. Keep up the good work Serpent, and I have no doubt that more accolades will follow. I bring this meeting to an end with the intention that we reconvene on January 8th to discuss further updates on the actions of Gellert Grindelwald. Dismissed."

Harry followed Federov from the room, confused by the lengthy gap between meetings.

"They didn't even ask for a report," he pointed out.

Federov hummed.

"I believe they wished for you to attend so they could see you in person, an ulterior motive indeed. I will look into who insisted on your presence. Not that it will prove anything."

Harry sighed as he shook his head.

"So, what happens now?" he asked.

"Now we wait until we receive further instructions," Federov explained. "I know it is frustrating, but this is a very sensitive political issue that must be treated with due care. One wrong move could escalate things, and that is the last thing any of us want."

"They're not going to do anything, are they?"

"Not yet," Federov confirmed. "They will gather as much intelligence as possible from each country affected, and decide what should be done, but no, I would not expect much to happen for some time at least, not until intervention is unavoidable."

"Bloody politics."

Federov chuckled.

"That is why I sometimes wish I was still in the field. There, politics matters little."

Harry nodded his agreement.

"Now, will you be taking on another target or will you take my advice and enjoy some time off?"

Harry frowned thoughtfully at the question.

"I think I will take a few days off," he answered. "I have a few people I'd like to catch up with, an uncle and aunt that I must visit, and a headmaster to see too."

"Then enjoy your time at home, Serpent. There will always be those to pursue," Federov assured him.

"I know," Harry murmured, already pondering just who he would target next.