HP: Night of the Wolf

Having spent the summer months in pursuit of an elusive bank robber with nothing to show for his efforts, Harry was left feeling frustrated. Two further robberies had been committed during the time, and still, he had no idea how such a thing had been done.

The goblins were as flummoxed as him, though they were much more furious with what they believed was a wizard that would dare carry out these acts against them.

They had been none too accommodating to Harry either when he had arrived on the scene to carry out his investigation. Not that there was anything to see other than a sizable space where there stacks of galleons had been stored in the master vault.

Not even the locks had been tampered with in any way.

How the vault had been accessed was the biggest mystery of all.

There was no magical trace to follow, nor any sign of anyone having even been there.

Whoever was behind this spate of robberies was good, worryingly good.

"So, there's nothing at all?" Charlus asked.

Harry shook his head.

With his own ideas running dry, Harry had explained the problem to his friends who were as baffled as him.

"That's not possible," Minerva broke in. "There has to be some sort of trace left behind."

"If Harry hasn't found it, then there is nothing to be found," Tiberius replied. "You know what he's like. He'd find it if it was there."

"True," Charlus sighed, "but if there's no trace, then how is it being done?"

"I was hoping you lot might have some ideas," Harry mumbled. "Anyway, how are things up at the castle?"

"As busy as ever," Minerva said tiredly. "The first years are excitable, and the seventh years are a bag of nerves. Nothing new."

Some things indeed never changed.

"This is a nice house," Poppy commented, "not where I'd have expected you to live, but nice."

"There's nothing wrong with Godric's Hollow," Charlus defended. "Where did you expect him to live, in a castle?"

Poppy shrugged.

"With how much money he must be making from just his chewing gum investment, he could probably afford it. That stuff is selling out everywhere."

"Really?" Harry asked, surprised.

Poppy nodded.

"She's right, Harry. The professors have been complaining about the bubbles being blown in their classrooms," Minerva explained.

Harry hummed as he summoned his latest, unopened statement he'd received from Gringotts in his absence.

With a frown, he read the missive, his eyes widening as he took in the balance.

Not only was his gum investment returning much more than expected, but his other ventures were also following suit.

"Bloody hell," he chuckled.

"Good news?" Charlus asked.

Harry merely nodded before placing the statement back in the envelope.

"I don't suppose this means you will quit your job and live off your earnings here?" the Potter heir pressed.

"Ha!" Poppy cut in. "He wouldn't be able to fulfil his death wish if he did that."

"I don't have a death wish," Harry denied.

Poppy raised an eyebrow in his direction whilst the others laughed.

"Come off it, Harry. We all know you don't need the money," Tiberius snorted. "Unless you share your reasons for doing what you are, we will just assume you have little regard for your own life."

Harry could only shake his head in response.

The only one of his friends who could even begin to understand why he did what he did was Minerva, and she found it difficult enough.

He didn't expect the others to understand and knew that they only worried for him.

Still, he couldn't give in now, not when he was making a difference. For the most part.

If only there was a breakthrough to be had with this bank business.

He stiffened suddenly, something that did not go unnoticed.

"Ah, that means our evening has come to an end," Tiberius declared. "What is it now, Evans?"

"I've just had a thought, that's all."

"A thought that won't wait?" Charlus questioned amusedly.

"Sorry," Harry offered sincerely.

Charlus clapped him on the shoulder.

"Come on you lot, you know what he's like. He won't bloody rest until he does what he needs to."

"So, no dessert then?" Tiberius asked.

"I'll buy you an ice cream," Charlus promised as he, Poppy, and the placated Tiberius filed out, leaving Harry alone with Minerva.

"You're not going to do something stupid, are you?"

"No," Harry promised.

Minerva gave him a speculative look before nodding.

"Make sure you don't," she said firmly, kissing him on the cheek before following the others.

When they were gone, Harry readied himself to return to the continent, pondering the budding idea that had formed.

It would not be easy to convince the goblins to cooperate, but it may well be their only chance to bring these robberies to an end.

(Break)

As ever, the Wizengamot meeting was dragging by, the discussion today surrounding the use of eagle-feather quills for writing official documentation in the records department.

Arcturus certainly had better things to occupy his time with.

"I will now pass over to Landon Doge and Ernest Bones for an important report that we shall hear before bringing this gathering to an end," Minister Fawley announced.

Arcturus could not help but think the man looked exhausted, the pressure of his post in these difficult times evidently not allowing him to get much sleep. Doge nor Bones looked much better, both sporting dark circles under their eyes, the latter releasing a laboured sigh before he addressed the room.

"As the ambassador for relations between ours and the muggle government, I was asked to attend a meeting with the Foreign Secretary early this morning," Bones announced. "It seems that despite their current efforts, the leader of the German people continues to flout the agreement signed after the Great War. Only a few days past, he announced that he has annexed Czechoslovakia."

Murmuring amongst the lords and ladies of the Wizengamot followed the statement.

"How is that our problem?" Lord Selwyn demanded to know. "Aren't they allies of the French?"

"As if the French will help them," Lord Yaxley mocked. "Bloody cowardly bastards that lot."

Cheers of agreement rang out, and even Arcturus found himself nodding approvingly.

"At worst, it is a muggle problem," Lord Ogden added.

The Minister held up a hand for silence.

"Ordinarily, you would be correct, but Mr Doge here has been summoned to attend a meeting of the ICW this afternoon. According to the Foreign Secretary, this Hitler has agreed to meet with our muggle Prime Minister, the French Prime Minister, and the Duce of Italy to ensure relations between our countries remain diplomatic."

"And I ask again, what does that have to do with us?" Lord Selwyn demanded.

"For now, very little, but we would be remiss in our duties to allow the muggle leader to enter what could be hostile negotiations without our protection," Fawley replied.

"With what the ICW has been told, we can all but be assured the German leader will have a wizard protection detail also," Doge explained. "Although it has not been confirmed, we highly suspect he is at the very least in talks with magical folk."

"This just gets better and better," Selwyn chuckled humourlessly. "So, we are to spare some aurors for this?"

"No," Doge answered. "I will be putting a request in to the ICW Department of Justice to arrange the security for the Prime Minister."

"Out of the question," Bones denied. "We cannot trust a foreigner with this."

"Oh, he won't be a foreigner, Bones," Doge replied. "He will be one of our own, I can assure you of that. A man better equipped than any to protect and extract the Prime Minister if need be."

"What man?" Selwyn asked.

"He is a decorated Hit-Wizard that goes by the name The Serpent. It also gives us the opportunity to rub it in the faces of the Italians who gave him their highest award for valour."

Arcturus frowned as Selwyn almost paled at the mention of this Serpent.

The Black heir hadn't heard of him, but judging by Selwyn's reaction, he had, and the other lord was deeply unsettled, something that Arcturus took no small amount of joy in.

(Break)

Harry returned the glare of the goblin seated opposite him, the beady eyes of the creature boring into his own. He refused to flinch or be intimidated by the unpleasant bank manager who had been the most uncooperative he had encountered yet.

"Let's not forget that it was your colleagues that asked us for help when they realised that they couldn't catch this man alone," he reminded the gnarled creature.

"But the request did not come from my branch!" the goblin said hotly.

"Then I am wasting my time, Mr Blackrod," Harry replied as he stood. "I wish you luck in succeeding where the other banks have failed. I'm sure your nation will take comfort in the fact that you remained a stubborn, and ignorant pig when your vault is as empty as the others."

With a final shake of his head, Harry headed towards the exit.

"Wait!" Blackrod sighed.

Harry did so and the goblin seemed torn for a moment before he deflated in his chair.

"How many other banks did you say had been stolen from?"

"Nine so far," Harry confirmed.

The goblin nodded, his eyes narrowing once more.

"I don't trust wizards…"

"The feeling is mutual, Blackrod," Harry cut in. "All of the goblins I have dealt with have been less than helpful, and I'm getting tired of it. You either want me to catch this man, or you can all bugger off as far as I care. I'm not wasting anymore time than I already have when the victims act like crooks."

The little goblin bared his teeth in displeasure but held off with any rebuttal.

"So, what is it you intend to do?"

"I'm going to mark the coins."

The goblin shook his head.

"No, any magic used will be traced by anyone who isn't a fool."

"Not the magic I will use," Harry assured the creature. "It is unique in its nature and will not be picked up by anyone until I intend it to."

"How will that work?" the goblin asked curiously.

"I will split the coins into groups and mark them, but the magic will be linked to a master coin that I will have in my possession. When the next robbery takes place, I will be able to activate the charms on them, and as soon as one is spent, it will alert me to the location of that coin."

"Will that work?"

Harry nodded.

"It will, but the drawback is having to wait until the coins are spent. That is why I am visiting so many branches to get them on board with the idea," he explained. "If I was to activate the coins too soon, they will trigger any wards they are hidden within and the person responsible will get away and just rob other banks. It's not a simple plan, and one that may fail, but everything else we have tried have yielded no results."

The goblin tapped the top of his desk with his long nails as he pondered the idea.

"It could take months, years even."

"It could," Harry agreed, "but catching this person won't be easy. I'd rather invest in a long-term plan than not catch them at all."

The goblin released a deep breath.

"Fine," he conceded. "I will allow you to carry out your work, but I will still have armed guards in the vault at all times. Do not attempt to steal from us. You will be watched whilst you are in there."

"With what your lot will pay me for catching the robber, I don't need to…"

Harry paused and a deep frown formed as he felt his licence vibrate in his pocket.

Removing it, he immediately knew that something somewhere was amiss.

Federov knew that he was putting his entire focus into this case, and for him to be summoned now, he must be needed.

"I will return as soon as I can," he informed the goblin.

"What about your work?"

"It will have to wait. For now, guard your gold as planned."

The goblin grumbled in its' mother tongue, but Harry ignored it in favour of taking his leave from the bank and finding somewhere nearby that he could activate his portkey, an unnerving feeling settling in the pit of his stomach.

Adjusting his appearance with a wave of his wand, he gave a final glance around him before vanishing from the streets of Madrid.

(Break)

"I must say, gentlemen, that this is highly irregular, and I do not appreciate your tact in this matter," Federov huffed irritably. "My Hit-Wizards are not damned bodyguards."

"But he is a British citizen still," Doge pointed out.

"He is employed by the ICW," Federov growled. "How my staff spend their time is down to my discretion. He is currently working on an assignment of great importance. Do not expect him to be very cooperative when he arrives."

"He will do as the Minister wishes of him," Bones said dismissively. "He may work for you, but he is British."

Federov snorted derisively.

If they thought they could strongarm Harry into doing what they wanted, they would be unpleasantly surprised.

Ivan himself had encouraged the young man to take a break from pursuing this robber, to no avail.

Evans was stubborn, and if he did not wish to partake, he wouldn't, and no number of threats or promises would make him.

"Ah, that will be him now," Ivan declared, leaning back in his chair expectantly. "Come in, Serpent."

The man that entered was unrecognisable from the boy that he had met a little over a year ago, his charms and transfiguration work however, as exemplary as ever.

Where his hair had been black and eyes green, they had been changed to blonde and blue respectively.

Ivan doubted even his closest friends would recognise him.

"I don't suppose this is a social request of my company," Harry said as he opened the door, his eyes narrowing at the two guests.

"I'm afraid not," Ivan sighed, "but I will leave it up to them to explain why you are here," he added, gesturing for either Bones or Doge to speak.

The latter cleared his throat.

"Hello, Serpent?" he asked uncertainly.

"Mr Serpent will do," Harry replied, and Ivan fought the urge to smirk at the belligerence.

"Okay, Mr Serpent," Doge corrected, sharing an uneasy look with his colleague. "We have a task for you."

"I'm already working on one."

"Not of this nature," Bones interjected. "This is a task of the utmost importance."

"Are you insinuating that my work is unimportant?"

"Certainly not!" Bones denied, aghast at the accusation. "Merely that what we require of you is a unique opportunity, and one we would have the very best available to complete."

Ivan shook his head.

Flattery would get them nowhere.

"And what is this task?" Harry asked.

"I think you should perhaps explain all that has happened over the past week," Ivan urged. "He may well not know."

"Know what?" Harry questioned curiously.

"Go ahead, Bones," Doge instructed. "This is your area of expertise, after all."

Bones nodded before turning his attention to Harry.

"How well informed are you of the current state of muggle affairs?" he asked.

"Well enough," Harry answered. "It's hard to miss what's happening when you spend most of your time here, but it has been quiet for months. The last I heard, the Germans and Austrians had formed an alliance."

"You would be correct," Bones confirmed. "Things have changed in the last few days."

"How?"

"The Germans," Bones sighed tiredly. "Although they have not invaded, they have declared Czechoslovakia to be a part of their territory. I'm not sure what you know of the previous war, but an agreement was signed, and the Germans are failing to honour it. Now, the British Prime Minister feels the need to intervene. In a diplomatic way, of course."

Harry nodded his understanding.

"What does that have to do with me?" he questioned.

Bones released a laboured breath.

"In light of this, and because of the rumours surrounding the German muggle involvement with their magical population, we would like for you to attend a meeting with the Prime Minister, the leader of the French as our ally, and the leaders of Germany and Italy respectively."

"A meeting?"

"Held in the hopes that peace can be kept between our nations," Bones explained. "As a rule, we tend to not involve ourselves in the affairs of muggles as you know, but we feel that it would be foolish for the Prime Minister to attend without adequate protection."

"Don't you have an office full of aurors that could do that?"

"We do," Doge acknowledged, "but we want you to do it, nonetheless. You are no common auror, Mr Serpent, and we would rest easy knowing that you were there."

"Where is the meeting to be held?"

"In Munich, two days from now. You would pose as a translator during the proceedings, and act as the Prime Minister's personal guard."

Harry shook his head.

"It won't work. I don't speak French, German, or Italian."

"Not to worry," Bones broke in. "We have a device that you can wear that will translate any language spoken to you into English. You need only relay what is said to the Prime Minister."

"We are asking you because we feel that you would be the best man to keep him safe," Doge added. "We cannot trust the Germans or Italians."

"Or the bloody French for that matter," Bones sighed. "We know that this is most unusual, but Britain as whole needs stability, and if anything were to happen to the Prime Minister during these talks, the muggles would not be paying attention to what they should be. From what I have seen, I can only conclude that war will eventually be inevitable, and for us to thrive and prosper as we do, the Germans cannot be allowed to win it."

"Especially if they have broken the Statute of Secrecy," Doge said gravely. "I cannot emphasise the importance of this being prevented."

"You will of course be paid handsomely on successful completion of the job."

Harry eyed both men speculatively for a moment.

"How much?"

"The Minister has set aside 500 galleons for you and even strongly hinted that a commendation would come your way. Privately, due to the nature of your job."

Ivan already knew that Harry would agree the moment the explanation of what his task was had been given.

Still, it filled him with a sense of pride that he showed patience and consideration to the matter.

"Alright, I'll do it," Harry declared, much to the relief of the two men, "but I have my conditions."

"Name them," Doge replied cautiously.

"I will not be punished if I need to break the Statue of Secrecy to get the Prime Minister out of there."

"Agreed," Bones said immediately. "That is why we have obliviators."

"I will answer to no one else. If there is a security team in place, they will follow my lead."

"That shouldn't be difficult to arrange. Anything else?"

Harry shook his head.

"Then we will inform the Minister of your decision," Bones announced. "We would like you to arrive at the Ministry tomorrow at five pm. Do not be late, Mr Serpent."

With that, the two men left the office and Harry released a deep breath.

"I hate the Ministry," he grumbled.

"For what it is worth, I think you have made the right choice," Ivan offered. "At worst, you end up with a good paycheck for your efforts. Even better would be finding proof that the Germans have broken the Statute of Secrecy."

"At worst, I could be killed," Harry corrected, "or the Prime Minister could."

Ivan nodded.

"Then let us hope that these talks remain civil, and that no unpleasantness arises."

(Break)

"I do not see why you feel that this is necessary. Our relationship with the Germans is strained, I admit, but this is an endeavour between our nations to mend the rift between us," Chamberlain explained. "Besides, I do not require additional security. My own men will suffice."

Hector shook his head, taken aback by the mans' stubbornness.

"I understand that you are not pleased by my presence, but you must also understand the danger you could face. I mean no offense to your own security detail, but they would be incapable of protecting you against one of our kind. If we are correct in our belief that this Hitler has indeed made the acquaintance of magical folk, you will need our assistance should your talks crumble."

Chamberlain frowned.

"I was under the impression that we were to remain separate, that our relationship would go no further than sharing relevant information between only ourselves."

"You are correct, but these are unprecedented times we are facing, Prime Minister. The unrest that would result were anything to happen to you could be catastrophic. Tell me, how do you think the nation would react if you were to be killed during this diplomatic trip?"

"I don't suppose they would be happy," Chamberlain conceded.

"And with the current mood across the continent, what do you think would happen?"

Chamberlain scratched his chin.

"Well, my deputy would fill in for me, the opposition would demand an election, and the king… I cannot fathom what he would do. He may well declare war on the Germans."

"Is that not what you wish to avoid?" Fawley questioned.

"It is," Chamberlain sighed. "It would be a poor legacy to leave behind that my death was the catalyst for another war."

"And that is why we feel it necessary to toe the line of limitations of the Statute of Secrecy by having you escorted by one of our own. I can assure you, he is an expert, highly trained, and will not allow any harm to come to you."

Chamberlain sighed.

"I suppose, given the circumstances, I am left with little choice but to allow it."

For the first time since he had arrived almost an hour earlier, Hector allowed a smile to grace his lips.

"I am pleased you have come around to the idea."

"What choice do I have?" Chamberlain sighed. "If his presence helps retain peace, then I am willing to endure it. Who is this man anyway?"

"He is a Hit-Wizard, a man that travels the world apprehending the most prolific and dangerous of criminals in the wizarding world," Hector explained. "I will allow him to make his own introduction to you when he arrives."

Chamberlain hummed unhappily.

"This man can be trusted?"

"I am risking my career by putting my faith in him," Hector replied. "I would not do so without the assurance that he is as trustworthy as they come. He will act as your translator during the proceedings, and as your personal guard from the moment you leave this house until your return to Britain."

Chamberlain nodded.

"Very well. When can I expect him to arrive?"

Before the Prime Minister had finished speaking, the fireplace flared into life, and two men stepped out.

Bones, he knew well, but the younger one that accompanied him, Hector had never seen.

He was unassuming in appearance, tall with a wiry build, his blue eyes scanning the large office, alert, and looking for any sign of a threat.

"Ah, Bones, just in time," Hector declared, standing, and shaking the hand of his colleague. "You already know the Prime Minister, of course."

"I do," Bones replied, nodding to the wary man that remained seated behind his desk.

"This is him?" Hector pressed, gesturing towards the young man.

"It is," Bones confirmed. "He has been briefed and understands the importance of his role. The Prime Minister will be in safe hands."

"Excuse me," Chamberlain interjected, "but isn't this man rather young for this task?"

Bones chuckled as he shook his head.

"I can assure you, Prime Minister, that there is none better equipped to protect you than our friend here. Do not let his age fool you. Already he is a decorated Hit-Wizard and is solely responsible for the arrest of many dangerous criminals."

Chamberlain looked sceptical, until The Serpent spoke for himself.

"There are nine armed men in this building, two just outside the door, and even you have a pistol in the top, righthand drawer of your desk. The lock on the furthest window from you is broken, and the police officer standing guard outside of the front door is carrying a gun."

Chamberlain nodded appreciatively.

"Very good, Mr…"

"Smith," the man replied. "Gordon Smith."

"Well, Mr Smith, you are certainly quite astute with your observations. I would be pleased to have you on board."

The young man shook the offered hand and Hector breathed a sigh of relief.

"I will have a room prepared for you, Mr Smith," Chamberlain continued. "Tomorrow, we fly to Munich in the hopes of achieving a brighter future than the bleak one we currently face."

(Break)

Harry had never been on a plane before and found that he did not care for it. The take off had been uncomfortable, the flight itself plagued by turbulence, and the company as dull as a lecture from Professor Binns.

The Prime Minister busied himself by reading some correspondence and smoking countless cigarettes, as did the others that were accompanying them. Before they had even crossed the channel, the plane was full of smoke.

It didn't bother Harry as such. Having spent so much time in the muggle world in various establishments, he was used to it.

"What is to happen when we land?" one of the other members of the security detail asked.

"Mr Smith?" Chamberlain prompted.

"I will exit first," Harry explained. "According to the itinerary, there will be cars waiting to take us to the Fuhrerbau where the meeting is to take place. We are to be met by the Foreign Minister when we land."

Chamberlain nodded.

"Then we should prepare, we will be landing soon."

Harry did so, pleased when the plane touched down in Munich where a convoy of cars and military vehicles were waiting a short distance from the runway.

The presence of the army was unnerving to say the least, but he had expected it.

Hitler would want a show of strength on display for those he had invited.

As planned, Harry departed the plane first and gave a cursory glance around to ensure that no traps had been laid, and when he was satisfied they hadn't, he gestured for the rest of the party to follow where they were approached by a large contingency of armed men.

"I don't like this," one of the other guards murmured, his hand reaching for the concealed pistol within his jacket.

"My friend, that will not be necessary," one of the Germans assured him, a strained and forced smile gracing his lips. "We are all friends, no?"

Harry gave a subtle shake of his head to the other guard who relented, the smile of the German man widening as he took in the image of the considerably taller Prime Minister.

"My name is Joachim von Ribbentrop, I am the Foreign Minister here on behalf of the Fuhrer. Please, make your way to the vehicles and we will escort you to him presently."

The man's English was good, so there was no need to translate, and Harry joined Chamberlain in the rear of the middle car. The rest of the party made their way into the others, and slowly but surely, the convoy began to roll out of the airport.

"I knew your presence would not be necessary," the Prime Minister chuckled as he waved at the thousands of Germans lining the streets of Munich who were cheering uproariously as they passed.

Harry merely frowned at the myriad of German, French, British, and Italian flags that were being held aloft by the onlookers.

Such excitement was not meant to last.

Eventually, the nations on display, among many others, would find themselves embroiled in war.

"The Fuhrerbau is only a few minutes away," Von Ribbentrop announced from the front passenger seat.

True to his word, the convoy passed through the guarded gates of an old building only a moment later, the guards here stood to attention, their expressions grim.

It was as though upon entry, the mood of Munich suddenly shifted from one of warmth and welcoming, to one of severity and purpose.

The smiles and waving were all but forgotten, and the Prime Minister shifted nervously in his seat.

"What do you think, Smith?"

"I think that it is a good thing that I am here."

"Why?"

"Because there are others like me inside."

"There are?" Chamberlain whispered, the rumbling of the engine drowning out their conversation.

Harry nodded.

"There are six of them, and more than one hundred armed men nearby."

"Six! Can you manage that many?"

"I have faced worse odds."

Chamberlain shook his head.

"Well, excuse me if I take little comfort in that, Mr Smith."

Any further conversation between the two was cut off as the car came to a stop outside the front of the palace and they were ushered from it.

"Arrangements have been made for your men, Prime Minister," Von Ribbentrop explained. "During the meeting, you will be allowed one guard, and one translator."

"Mr Smith will serve as my translator," Chamberlain declared, "and Mr Walpole my guard."

Von Ribbentrop nodded.

"Then the rest will be escorted to private rooms where lunch will be served to them," he explained. "Upon the conclusion of the meeting, you will be reunited with them."

"Then let us not dally. Lead the way, Mr Von Ribbentrop."

With another strained smile, the man obliged, and for the first time since they'd arrived in Germany, Harry felt distinctly uncomfortable.

For a building with so many people within, it was oddly quiet on the lower levels. The first audible signs that any other was present didn't reach them until they came to the third floor, where hushed conversations could be heard from ahead.

Two other guards had been stationed outside a set of double doors, and both men stood sharply to attention at the appearance of Von Ribbentrop.

"HEIL HITLER!" they chorused, snapping their heels together smartly as they held their right arms aloft at an angle.

"Heil Hitler," Von Ribbentrop replied, before addressing the two soldiers in German.

When he was done, they gave a final salute before marching down the corridor in the opposite direction.

"Come, gentlemen," Von Ribbentrop urged. "The Fuhrer awaits."

Entering the room, Harry caught his first up close glimpse of Adolf Hitler. The man was garbed in a military-style uniform with the symbol of his party standing prominently on his left arm.

As he would later come to be known by it, his toothbrush moustache sat atop his lip, and his dark hair was styled to one side.

As the man stood, he was taller than Harry had expected, but still dwarfed by the much lankier Prime Minister who shook the German leader's hand, neither smiling.

It wasn't until another approached from the far side of the room that Harry took notice of the others.

Already in attendance was the Italian leader and his representative, along with the French Prime Minister, and his own attendant.

The man who would seemingly be translating for Hitler, however, was unmissable, the feeling of his magic quite overwhelming in stark contrast of the muggles surrounding him.

"Good afternoon, Prime Minister Chamberlain," the individual said warmly. "My name is Gellert, and I will be translating on behalf of the Fuhrer today."

Harry felt his stomach sink as the pale-skinned wizard caught his eye and gave him a knowing smile.

"And you are?" he prompted.

"Gordon Smith," Harry answered, tentatively accepting the proffered limb. "I will be translating for the Prime Minister."

Gellert nodded.

"And between us, I am sure we will do an admirable job. This is quite the important meeting."

Harry nodded his agreement, his mouth having dried from the unexpected presence of perhaps the most wanted man in the wizarding world.

"Shall we begin?" Gellert questioned, speaking the question three further times in French and German respectively.

The leaders of the gathered nations took their seats, and Harry couldn't help but feel that he was wasting his time.

The outcome here may well seem to be one to be celebrated, but the impending war was still inevitable.

If anything, this meeting was little more than an aversion of that end, and only the French and the British were ignorant of this.

(Break)

Gellert watched Smith closely. Despite the man knowing who he was, the Brit remained calm throughout the proceedings, the slight widening of his eyes being the only indication given that he knew who stood before him.

The handshake had been given reluctantly, but his grip had been sure.

This Gordon Smith was wary of him, but there was no sign of fear from the younger man.

Gellert had sensed his approach with the arriving British party before they had entered the room, the Ministry of Magic evidently taking no chances with the safety of their muggle Prime Minister.

It was a bold but calculated move that Gellert could respect. Not that his presence would change the outcome of the meeting.

As much as he would need the muggles to be at war with one another in the future, now was not the time for such things, not when he had yet to finish his own preparations.

Until he had a stronger foothold in more countries, war would need to be avoided, so this gathering would need to end under the pretence of an accord having been reached.

"I will cede nothing in the Sudetenland," Hitler said hotly, "and tell him that he cannot smoke in this building."

Smith relayed the message to the British Prime Minister who was unhappy but complied with the wishes of his host.

"Then why are we meeting if you are not willing to compromise?" Chamberlain questioned tiredly.

Gellert translated the question to the Fuhrer who nodded his understanding before deferring to Mussolini.

Thus began the tedious talks. For hours the leaders had gone back and forth with their demands with no progress being made.

"The Fuhrer is willing to negotiate terms, but your demands are unfair as they were when the treaty of 1919 was signed. The Fuhrer does not accept this document but is willing to offer assurances that once the Sudetenland is given to him, he will not seek to expand his borders further," Ciano, the Italian's companion explained.

Upon the reply being translated, the French and British Prime Ministers talked amongst themselves with the aid of their companions.

The French would cave first, and then Britain would follow suit.

Although Czechoslovakia was an ally to the former, neither would be willing to risk the lives of their soldiers to keep it from German control. To them, the land was worthless.

"Would you be willing to put that in writing?" the Frenchman asked. "A new agreement signed by us all to ensure you keep to your word?"

When asked, Hitler nodded and shared a brief conversation with his Italian ally.

"The Fuhrer is in agreement, but might I suggest that we break for dinner whilst the document is being drawn up?"

The other leaders readily agreed, and though an accord had indeed been reached, they did not seem to be keen to converse with one another beyond the need to discuss terms of peace.

The food was sent for, and Gellert watched as Smith hovered his hand above the meal presented to the Prime Minister before allowing him to eat.

A curious move, one that spoke volumes of the man's magical ability.

To detect poisons in such a way was no simple feat.

Curiously, Gellert approached the man and engaged the rather unwilling Brit in conversation.

"It seems that the meeting will end with all being content," he said.

Smith snorted.

"Let us not pretend that this is the end of this," he replied dismissively. "The Austrian will not stick to his word. I suppose he will break it when it is most convenient for you."

Gellert smiled.

Smith was sharp, but not entirely correct in his assumption.

"So, you are aware of who I am," he offered appreciatively. "You overestimate my involvement. I can assure you, Mr Smith, none of this has been orchestrated by me. War amongst the muggles currently offers no benefit to my own ambitions. In the future, perhaps, but not yet."

"Then why are you here?"

"The very same reason you are," Gellert assured him. "To ensure that peace is brokered between these four countries. For the time being at least."

"He acted unexpectedly," Smith deduced, nodding towards Hitler. "I would have thought you would have someone keeping him firmly in hand."

"Not unexpectedly, but sooner than I anticipated," Gellert conceded. "I did have a man to do just that, but he was unexpectedly taken from his position. It is most difficult to find competent assistants. As such, he has not been replaced."

Smith's gaze bored into his own, and Gellert felt a prod of passive legilimency reach him.

He couldn't be certain if it was intentional or not, but Smith nodded his satisfaction, nonetheless.

"You may be a scumbag, but at least you're honest," he sighed. "Dishonesty is quite irksome."

"I couldn't agree more with you," Gellert returned with a slight bow. "It was nice to make your acquaintance, Mr Smith. Perhaps next time we meet, the circumstances will be different, and you will be amenable to hearing what my ambitions are instead of listening to the lies told by my enemies."

Smith accepted the offered hand once more.

"Or perhaps it will be when you are brought to justice," he replied. "The world will not allow you to win."

Gellert chuckled.

"I do not expect to be allowed anything, Mr Smith, but I will continue to take it. From my understanding, there are very few who wish to put an end to me."

Smith nodded.

"True," he acknowledged, "but there is always someone willing to fight for those that cannot."

Gellert did not miss the undertone of threat in the man's voice, but he smiled diplomatically despite the anger he was feeling.

"Then I look forward to meeting this person. I do not believe that it would end favourably for them," he returned evenly. "Ah, it appears the document is ready. Our conversation has been enlightening, but I fear that our time together is coming to an end. Do take care, Mr Smith. I anticipate that we may one day meet again."

Smith said nothing, and as Gellert returned to Hitler's side, he gave the man a final look of speculation.

No, Smith did not fear him, but neither did he understand what was happening on the continent.

For more than a year, there had been no visiting British magicals as decreed by the Ministry of Magic.

In that year, much had changed, and people like Gordon Smith could not fathom just how much more they would do so.

'Ignorant fool," Gellert muttered in German.