The Calm Before

October 31, 1993, 7:15 PM, Forbidden Forest

Harry Potter

The ancient trees of the Forbidden Forest stood like silent sentinels around the small clearing, their gnarled branches reaching toward the darkening sky above. Harry Potter moved through the forest with purpose, his body responding to commands with a precision and speed that still amazed him. Even now, barely ten days after absorbing that fraction of power from the ancient magic seal beneath Grimmauld Place, he found himself marveling at the transformation.

His feet barely seemed to touch the forest floor as he darted between the trees, each step calculated and sure. When he came to an abrupt stop, there was no stumble, no loss of balance— just perfect control. His hand shot out to catch a falling leaf before it could touch the ground, the motion so quick it was little more than a blur.

Incredible. Harry thought, staring at the autumn leaf in his palm. The enhancement wasn’t just physical; his senses had sharpened as well. He could hear the rustle of small creatures in the undergrowth, smell the earthy dampness of rotting leaves, feel the subtle shift in air pressure that spoke of the approaching storm. Everything was more vivid, more immediate.

But even as wonder filled him, a familiar weight settled in his chest. The power coursing through him was remarkable, yes, but it was only a small fraction of what the ancient magic could offer. And tonight, facing Grindelwald’s forces at Stonehenge, would it truly be enough?

Harry shook his head sharply, forcing the negative thoughts away. Adam had taught him that dwelling on uncertainty was a luxury they couldn’t afford. Tonight required focus, determination, and above all, hope. He had to believe they could succeed, had to trust in the strength of their group and the righteousness of their cause.

A low rumble drew his attention, and Harry turned toward the center of the clearing where Astrid lay basking in the last rays of filtered sunlight, her scales now a deep bronze that caught the light like polished metal. Her great head was turned toward him, intelligent amber eyes watching his every movement.

Harry approached her slowly, a smile tugging at the corners of his mouth.

“How are you doing, girl?” He asked, settling himself against her warm flank. The dragon’s hide was surprisingly comfortable, radiating heat that chased away the October chill. “And more importantly, how’s Hedwig been treating you?”

Astrid’s response was immediate— a snort that sent twin jets of harmless flame from her nostrils. The fire danced in the air for a moment before dissipating, leaving behind the faint scent of sulfur and smoke. Harry couldn’t help but laugh at her obvious exasperation.

“That bad, huh?” Harry reached up to stroke the scales along her neck, feeling the powerful muscles beneath shift at his touch. “You know she’s just protective. She’s been with me since before almost anyone else except Hagrid, and sharing me with anyone— even you— doesn’t come naturally to her.”

The truth was, the relationship between his owl and dragon remained complicated. Hedwig alternated between perching as far from Astrid as possible during their forest visits and as close as she could manage. Harry understood her feelings; it would still take time for her to adjust.

Time. Harry reminded himself again. It just takes time.

He settled more comfortably against Astrid’s side, his gaze drifting from the familiar forest canopy to the sky above. The sun was beginning its final descent toward the horizon, painting the clouds in brilliant shades of orange and red. Soon, those warm colors would give way to the deep purple of twilight, and then the star-studded black of night.

Tonight. The word carried such weight, such finality.

“Everything will change tonight.”

Harry’s mind wandered to the visions Adam had shared with them— glimpses of a vast chamber where dark rituals were being performed, of a portal that would tear open the barrier between worlds. The very thought sent a shiver down Harry’s spine.

What would they find when they arrived? Harry had tried countless times to imagine the scene, but his mind could only conjure fragments. He pictured Grindelwald himself, that charismatic face twisted with dark purpose, surrounded by his followers. There would be Voldemort too, somehow allied with the man who had once been Dumbledore’s greatest friend. The thought of those two working together was almost incomprehensible.

But beyond the obvious threats, so much remained unknown. How many followers would they face? What defenses had been erected around the ancient stone circle? What magical protections would they encounter? And perhaps most troubling of all— what were their actual chances of success?

Adam had been characteristically honest about their prospects, which meant they were grim indeed. Harry appreciated his adoptive brother’s candor, but it didn’t make the reality any easier to swallow. They were students— brilliant, talented, and well-trained students, but students nonetheless— preparing to face some of the most dangerous wizards in the world.

But we’re not just students. Harry reminded himself firmly. We’ve faced impossible odds before and survived.

Dealing with Quirrell, the village of Phantasime, and the various battles they’d already fought over the course of the past year— each had seemed hopeless at the time. Yet here they were, still standing, still fighting. There was power in that, a strength born not just of magic but of will and determination.

Astrid shifted beneath him, her great head turning to nuzzle against his shoulder. The gesture was gentle, almost tender, and Harry felt a rush of affection for the magnificent creature. She understood him in ways that transcended words, sensing his moods and fears with uncanny accuracy.

“I know.” He murmured, rubbing the spot where her neck met her shoulder. “I’m worried too. But we’ll get through this, won’t we? All of us.”

The dragon’s mental response was wordless but unmistakable— a surge of fierce loyalty and protective determination that made Harry’s eyes water. Whatever happened tonight, he wouldn’t face it alone. Adam would be there, as would their friends. And Astrid would be watching from afar, ready to come to his aid if needed.

Heartened by this, Harry pushed himself upright, his jaw set with determination. Enough of this— there’s a battle to be won.

Fear was natural, even healthy, but he couldn’t let it consume him. Adam needed him focused, their friends needed him strong, and the magical world needed him to be the person he’d trained to become. The ancient magic flowing through his veins was just one tool among many; his true strength lay in his connections to others, his refusal to give up when all seemed lost.

The sky had darkened quite a bit in the time it took for him to conduct his musings, scattered with countless stars. A crescent moon hung low on the horizon.

It was time. Harry reached out to touch Astrid’s snout gently.

“I have to go now, girl.” He said softly. “The others will be gathering, and we leave for Stonehenge soon.”

He paused, his throat tightening slightly. “I’ll be back tomorrow— or at least, I hope I will be.”

Astrid’s response was immediate and overwhelming— a flood of emotion that spoke of friendship, loyalty, and unwavering faith in his return. The dragon’s great eyes seemed to bore into his soul, and Harry felt his own eyes water at the intensity of her devotion.

She believes in me. He realized with wonder. Even when I don’t believe in myself, she has absolute faith.

“Thank you, my friend.” He whispered, wrapping his arms around her massive neck in a fierce embrace. “Watch over Hedwig while I’m gone, all right? And if something goes wrong…”

But Astrid cut off that line of thought with a gentle rumble, the sound vibrating through her chest into his. She wouldn’t accept talk of failure or loss. In her mind, Harry would return victorious, and that was that.

Drawing strength from her certainty, Harry stepped back and smiled. “All right then. I’ll see you tomorrow, and we can celebrate together.”

He turned and walked toward the edge of the clearing, not looking back. He could feel Astrid’s gaze following him until the trees blocked her from view, a warm presence at his back that would sustain him through whatever he may face.

oooo

Same Time…

Adam Clarke

The clearing I’d chosen for our final meeting was tucked away in a part of the Forbidden Forest where the wildness still felt strongest. Moonlight filtered through the canopy to the east, the weak silver rays penetrating just enough to cast an otherworldly glow to the area.

Absol stood beside me, her skeletal frame somehow both beautiful and haunting in the pale light. I ran my hand along her neck, feeling the smooth bone beneath my palm. “Are you ready for this, girl?”

~Yes.~ Absol turned her great head toward me, and I felt her concern and fierce determination. She was ready to fight beside me if needed, but she also understood that her role tonight would be different. ~I will do as you ask. I do not like it, but it will be done.~

“Thank you.” I said. “You’re the only one I can trust to do this…”

The air around us suddenly shifted, and I felt the familiar tingle that announced a ghostly presence.

“The only two, rather.”

I turned, already knowing who I would see, and my heart clenched at the sight of Helena Ravenclaw materializing before us.

She was breathtaking, as always— her long dark hair flowing around her pale face, her robes somehow managing to be both ethereal and substantial. But tonight, there was something different in her expression. Where I usually saw love tempered with the melancholy of the dead, now I saw raw fear and deep longing.

“My love…” She whispered, her voice carrying all the weight of her centuries. “Please don’t go. Please.”

I stepped toward her, aching to offer physical comfort but knowing the futility of it. “Helena, we’ve talked about this. You know I have to—”

“No, you don’t!” Her form flickered with the intensity of her emotion, and for a moment I could see through her to the trees beyond. “You’re choosing this! You’re choosing to throw your life away for people who should be protecting you, not the other way around!”

“That’s not fair.” I said gently, trying to keep my voice calm despite the turmoil in my chest. “You know that’s not how it works. I have knowledge they don’t, power they need. If I don’t act— “

“If you don’t act, someone else will find another way!” Helena’s eyes were blazing now, literally— silver fire that spoke of her anguish. “There’s always another way. There has to be.”

I wished I could believe that. God, how I wished I could believe that. But I’d seen too much.

Grindelwald was a force of nature, a man who had spent decades accumulating power and followers. And now, with his more-than-likely alliance with Voldemort, not to mention the various other factions, most notably the Chinese and Brazilians…

“Helena.” I began, but she cut me off.

“I’ve watched you grow into the man you are today.” She said, her voice breaking. “I’ve seen your courage, your intelligence, your incredible capacity for love. Do you think I want to watch that light snuffed out? Do you think I can bear to see you join me in this half-existence between worlds, or worse, gone forever?”

The thought of it made my stomach clench. What was the alternative, though? Let Grindelwald succeed? Let him tear open the barriers between realms and unleash whatever horrors lay in the Abyss upon the world?

“I can’t abandon them.” I whispered. “My friends, and family… I can’t abandon them.”

“And what am I?” The question came out as barely more than a breath, but it hit me like a physical blow.

I stared at her, this woman I loved more than life itself, this brilliant, fierce, heartbroken soul who had chosen to linger in the world rather than pass on to whatever came next. How could I explain that she was everything to me too? That the thought of never seeing her again was tearing me apart just as much as it was her?

“You’re…” I started, then stopped, struggling for words that could encompass the depth of what I felt. “Helena, you’re the reason I want to come back. You’re the reason I’ll fight twice as hard to survive this. But if I don’t go, if I let fear keep me here while others fight and die in my place, then I’m not the man you fell in love with.”

She stared at me for a long moment, and I saw her form solidify as she gained control over her emotions. When she spoke again, her voice was steady but filled with profound sadness.

“I know.” She said simply. “I know you have to go. I just… I needed to try one last time to change your mind.”

The clearing fell silent except for the whisper of wind through the trees. Absol shifted beside me, her presence a comfort even in this moment of sadness.

“I’m going to come back to you.” I said, putting every ounce of conviction I could muster into the words. “I swear to you, Helena. I’m going to come back, and we’re going to have time together. Real time, without the weight of the world hanging over us.”

Helena’s smile was radiant and heartbreaking all at once. “Do you promise?”

“I promise.”

She floated toward me then, and I felt the familiar warmth as she pressed her ghostly lips to mine. The kiss was ice and fire, love and desperation, hope and farewell all rolled into one impossible moment. When she pulled away, I saw tears— actual tears— streaming down her translucent cheeks.

“I love you.” She whispered. “More than I loved life itself, more than I fear death, more than anything in any realm. Remember that. Whatever happens tonight, remember that you are loved completely and utterly.”

“I love you too.” I managed, my own voice thick with emotion. “More than words can say.”

Helena glided away, then, her form becoming more and more translucent the farther she got. Just before she disappeared entirely, I caught sight of something that made my heart ache— glittering droplets falling through the air where she had been, the spectral tears of a ghost who loved too deeply to let go.

The clearing felt empty without her presence, cold and hollow in a way that had nothing to do with the October air. I stood there for a moment, staring at the spot where she had been, trying to memorize every detail of our goodbye.

I will come back to you. I promised silently. Whatever it takes, I will come back.

Absol nuzzled against my shoulder, offering what comfort she could. I turned to her, grateful for her steady presence.

“I need you to do something for me.” I said, placing both hands on her neck and looking directly into her dark eyes. “While I’m gone, I need you to watch over Helena. She’s going to be frightened and alone, and I can’t bear the thought of her suffering while I’m away.”

Absol’s response came through our bond immediately— a wave of understanding and fierce protectiveness. She had always been fond of Helena. ~Of course.~

“Thank you.” I whispered, pressing my forehead against hers. “I know it’s a lot to ask, but— “

She cut me off with a gentle headbutt, followed by a flood of warmth and affection through our connection. She understood. She would protect what I loved while I was gone, just as I would fight to protect what we all loved.

“And if… if something goes wrong.” I continued, my throat tight. “If I don’t make it back, I need you to help her move on. Help her find peace. Don’t let her linger here forever, trapped by grief.”

Absol’s response was swift and decisive— a firm rejection of that possibility. In her mind, I would return. There was no other acceptable outcome. Her faith in me was absolute, unwavering, and I drew strength from it.

“All right then.” I said, managing a smile. “I’ll see you tomorrow, and we can all figure out what comes next together.”

Absol spread her wings then, the moonlight making the translucent membranes glow like silver silk. She took to the air with barely a sound, circling the clearing once before disappearing into the night. I knew she would find Helena, would stay close to offer whatever comfort she could.

Alone now, I allowed myself a moment to simply exist in the quiet of the forest. The weight of leadership, of the knowledge I carried, of the desperate plan we were about to attempt— all of it pressed down on me like a physical burden. Sometimes I wondered what would have happened if I had never arrived in this world, if events had proceeded according to their original course. Were things better then?

True, so many had died in the final battle, like Sirius, Remus, Tonks and many others, but there was still a world in the aftermath. British wizarding society had been broken, but the pieces could still be picked up and a new society could have been made. With this situation, however… Did I doom this world with my existence?

But those were pointless thoughts. I was here, the timeline had changed, and now we all had to live with the consequences. The only choice was to move forward, to fight with everything we had, and to hope it would be enough.

Always forward.

The sound of footsteps drew my attention, and I turned to see Harry emerging from the treeline. My adoptive brother looked calm and determined, the moonlight making him look almost ethereal in his grace.

“Harry.” I called softly, managing a genuine smile despite everything. “How did your time with Astrid go?”

“Better than expected.” He replied, moving to stand beside me. “She seems to understand what’s at stake tonight. And you? Helena?”

I felt my chest tighten at the mention of her name. “She’s scared. Terrified, actually. But she understands too.”

Harry nodded, his expression sympathetic. He had seen enough of my relationship with Helena to understand what it meant to me, what it cost us both to be separated by the barrier between life and death.

We stood together in comfortable silence for a moment, two brothers bound not by blood but by choice, mutual trust and shared experiences.

The sound of more approaching footsteps told us the others were beginning to arrive. Soon the clearing would be filled with friends and allies, all united in purpose despite the terrible odds we faced.

“Ready?” Harry asked quietly.

“As ready as I’ll ever be.” I replied.

Harry’s presence beside me was a steadying force as we waited in the moonlit clearing. The familiar weight of leadership settled on my shoulders like an old cloak, but tonight it felt heavier than usual. Tonight, I wasn’t just responsible for a study group or a training session— I was asking these people to follow me into what could very well be their deaths.

The first to emerge from the treeline were Hermione and Ron. Even in the pale moonlight, I could see the determination etched into both their faces, though Hermione’s jaw was set in that particular way that meant she was fighting back fear. Ron looked grimmer than I’d ever seen him, his usual easy humor replaced by something else.

“Adam, Harry.” Hermione called softly as they approached. Her voice was steady, but I caught the slight tremor that spoke of nerves held tightly in check.

“Glad you could make it.” I replied, offering them both a nod. “Though I have to ask one more time— are you sure about this? There’s no shame in—”

“Don’t.” Ron interrupted, his voice firm. “Don’t even finish that sentence. We’ve been through this already. Where you two go, we go, too.”

Before I could respond, more figures began appearing from the forest. Su materialized from behind a massive oak, her usual expression replaced by focused intensity. Tony followed close behind, sending me an uncertain smile. The quiet boy who had once struggled with defensive spells now moved with the confidence of someone who had found his strength through adversity.

“Su, Tony.” I greeted them with genuine warmth. “How are you feeling?”

“Terrified.” Su admitted with characteristic honesty. “But ready.”

Tony just nodded, his hand resting on his wand. The gesture was unconscious, but it spoke volumes about how far he’d come. A year ago, he would have been fumbling and unsure despite the lessons he’d picked up from me. Now, however, he stood ready to face the danger head-on.

A loud rustle from the nearby bushes announced the arrival of Fred and George Weasley, who appeared with their typical flair— a small shower of golden sparks that briefly illuminated the clearing before fading away.

“Couldn’t resist.” “Had to make an entrance.” The two said, though they didn’t look particularly jovial.

“Much appreciated. Always glad to see you two.” I told them honestly.

Their skills in both magic and strategy were considerable, and their ability to maintain morale was something we desperately needed.

More figures continued to emerge from the forest. Hufflepuffs, Ravenclaws, Slytherins and Gryffindor, as well as the Ilvermorny contingent. I recognized all of their faces; Sarah Chen, Luna, Neville, Dean Thomas, Seamus Finnigan, and many more.

Draco also came, though I could tell that he wanted to be anywhere but here.

Likely that his every instinct is telling him to flee. I thought. Going to get his mother away from danger is one thing. Going headlong into near-certain death is another.

“Malfoy.” I acknowledged with a careful nod.

“Clarke.” He replied, his voice neutral. “Potter.”

The fact that he was here at all still amazed me. Years ago, I would never have imagined Draco Malfoy standing with us on the eve of battle, and yet here he was.

“Any word from your mother?” I asked quietly.

Draco’s expression tightened slightly. “She’s safe. That’s all that matters.”

The simple statement carried volumes of unspoken complexity. Narcissa Malfoy’s position in this conflict was precarious at best— caught between her son’s new allegiances and her husband’s old ones. But Draco had made his choice, and he was here.

A few more stragglers emerged from the forest— Padma Patil, Justin Finch-Fletchley, Hannah Abbott, and others who had joined our cause over the weeks. Each face represented a story, a journey from ordinary student to something approaching a soldier. The transformation hadn’t been easy for any of them.

As the group assembled, I found myself taking mental attendance, noting not just who was present but who was absent. The gaps were significant— nearly a fifth of our trained fighters had chosen not to come tonight.

“We’re missing quite a few…” Hermione asked, voicing what several others were clearly thinking. “Cho, and a few others.”

I saw the slight twitch that crossed Harry’s face at the mention of the girl’s name, knowing he harbored a sort-of crush on her. Cho Chang had been one of our most dedicated students in the early days, but as the stakes had risen and the dangers had become more real, she had pulled back.

“She’s not coming.” I said simply. “I wager a dozen others won’t come, either.”

The clearing fell quiet at my words. I could feel the mixture of emotions rippling through the group— disappointment, anger, judgment. It was Ron who voiced what many were thinking.

“So they’re just going to sit this out? Let us do the dangerous work while they stay safe in the castle?”

“Cowards, of course they will.” “They don’t know what’ll happen if they do nothing—” “Or, they just don’t care!”

I held up a hand before the sentiment could spread further.

“Don’t judge them.” I said sharply.

The rebuke was sharper than I’d intended, and I saw several people flinch. I took a breath and continued in a gentler tone.

“When I first formed this group, it was supposed to be about protecting yourselves and your fellow students. Self-defense, not offense. Most of you signed up to learn how to shield yourselves from hexes, not to storm enemy territory and take on some of the most dangerous wizards in the world.”

I gestured around the clearing, taking in all their faces. “What we’re doing tonight isn’t education anymore. It’s not even vigilantism. We’re going to war— pure and simple. And war isn’t something you sign up for lightly.”

Fred shifted uncomfortably. “But they know what’s at stake— “

“They know exactly what’s at stake.” I interrupted. “That’s why some of them chose not to come. They have families to think about, futures they want to see, people who depend on them. Of course, I disagree with their choice— if we fail at this juncture, then there won’t be a world, and therefore no people who depend on them. In the end, it’s still their choice.”

The silence that greeted my words was different now, tinged with understanding rather than judgment.

“Besides.” I continued, allowing a slight smile to cross my face. “It’s likely better this way. Do you really think I want inexperienced fighters on a battlefield where split-second decisions mean the difference between life and death?”

That earned me a few chuckles, tension easing slightly around the group.

“So what you’re saying.” George said slowly. “This is basically your private army.”

The phrase hung in the air for a moment before several people began laughing. It started with Luna’s silvery giggle, spread to the twins’ distinctive cackles, and soon had infected most of the group. Even Draco’s mouth twitched upward at the corners.

“I suppose that’s exactly what I’m saying.” I admitted, grinning despite myself. “Welcome to… Clarke’s Irregulars, I guess.”

“Terrible name.” Fred declared.

“Absolutely awful.” George agreed. “We’ll have to workshop that.”

The laughter was good for morale, but I couldn’t let it last too long. There were still harsh realities to address.

“All right, settle down.” I said, raising my voice slightly. “We need to talk about what we’re actually facing tonight.”

The clearing quieted again, all attention focused on me. This was the part I’d been dreading— the moment when I had to be completely honest about our chances.

“First, the good news.” I began. “We’re not going to be fighting alone. The adult member of Dumbledore’s Order will likely be there, along with Aurors and other Ministry forces. We’ll also likely have international support— the other countries that didn’t betray us will send their fighters.”

I paused, seeing hope kindle in several faces. Time to temper it with reality.

“Now the bad news.” I continued. “None of them are going to want us there. The moment they see students on the battlefield, they’re going to try to send us away. Some of them will probably try to force the issue.”

“Let them try.” A student muttered, but I shook my head.

“We’re not going to fight our own allies, Randy. We’re going to prove ourselves through actions, not arguments. When the real fighting starts, when they’re overwhelmed and desperate, they won’t have the luxury of worrying about our age.”

Sarah Chen raised her hand slightly. “What exactly are we walking into? Do we have any intelligence about their defenses?”

I wished I had a better answer for her. “Some, but not enough. We know Grindelwald’s order is well manned. Conservative estimates put his forces at over three hundred trained fighters, possibly more. Add in Voldemort’s Death Eaters and whatever the traitor nations brought to the party…”

I let the implications hang in the air. As expected, everyone looked troubled by the numbers.

“What about the ritual itself?” Another student asked. “Do we know how to stop it?”

“We disrupt it.” I said simply. “My sources have given me some insights into how the magic works, but a lot of it has admittedly been educated guesswork. Still, the important thing is to prevent Grindelwald from completing whatever he’s trying to do.”

Johnson frowned. “That’s not much of a plan.”

“No.” I agreed. “It’s not. But sometimes the simplest plans are the best ones. Get in, cause as much chaos as possible, stop the bad guys, get out alive.”

“And if we can’t get out alive?” The question came from Ophelia Scarlet, asked with her characteristic directness.

This was it— the moment of ultimate honesty. I looked around the clearing, meeting each person’s eyes in turn. These people deserved the truth, no matter how painful.

“Then we don’t.” I said quietly. “I’m not going to lie to you. Our chances of success are slim. Our chances of all making it home are even slimmer. Some of us— maybe most of us— aren’t going to survive tonight.”

The words fell like stones into still water, sending ripples of fear and determination through the group in equal measure. I saw hands tighten on wands, jaws clench with resolve, eyes grow bright with unshed tears.

“If anyone wants to leave.” I continued. “Now is the time. Again, no judgment, no questions asked. You can walk back to the Castle and no one will think less of you.”

I waited, watching faces in the moonlight. Several people shifted nervously, but no one moved toward the forest paths that led back to safety.

“Why?” The question came from Padma Patil, her voice barely above a whisper. “Why are we doing this? How are you so willing to throw your life away?”

The clearing fell completely silent. Even the forest seemed to hold its breath.

“I don’t see it as throwing it away.” I said softly. “If Grindelwald succeeds in his ritual, the world as we know it ends. Not just the wizarding world— everything. Everyone we love, everything we’ve worked for, all of it gone.”

I paused, gathering my thoughts before continuing.

“But that’s not why I’m asking you to come with me. I’m asking because I believe that we can win. Not because we’re stronger or smarter or better than them, but because we’re fighting for something worth preserving. They may be fighting for similar causes, but Grindelwald is falsely leading them to their deaths.”

“So what do we do?”

“We fight.” I said simply. “We fight with everything we have, and we trust each other to make it count.”

The group stood in contemplative silence for several more moments, each person wrestling with their own fears and doubts. I felt the weight of their trust, their willingness to follow me into almost certain death. It was humbling and terrifying and inspiring all at once.

Hermione was the first to break the quiet, her voice carefully controlled but carrying an undercurrent of steel. “How certain are you about the odds?”

“Honestly? If we were playing this straight, I’d say we have maybe a ten percent chance of stopping the ritual. Maybe fifteen if we get lucky.”

Ron made a sound that might have been a laugh or a sob. “Bloody hell, Adam. When you said our chances were slim…”

“I know.” I ran a hand through my hair. “But that’s not the whole picture. Grindelwald’s expecting conventional resistance. He’s prepared for the Ministry, for the Order, for everything he considers a legitimate threat. What he’s not prepared for is us.”

“Because we’re expendable?” Draco’s voice was carefully neutral, but I caught the bitter edge underneath.

“Because we’re unpredictable.” I corrected firmly. “Because we don’t follow the rules of engagement that govern adult wizards. Because we’re willing to take risks that sane, experienced fighters would never consider.”

I gestured around the clearing, taking in their faces one by one. “Look at yourselves. Really look. A year ago, you were students worrying about homework, test scores, Quidditch and Hogsmeade weekends. Tonight, you’re standing here ready to storm one of the most heavily defended positions in wizarding history. That’s not normal. That’s not rational. And that makes you dangerous in ways Grindelwald can’t calculate.”

Neville shifted uncomfortably. “So we’re banking on them underestimating us?”

“Partly, yes. But also on the fact that desperate times call for desperate measures.” I paused, trying to find the right words. “Every great victory in history has come from someone doing the impossible. All we have to do is fight, just like the wizards of old have in every major conflict.”

“But people died. In each one of those battles, people died.”

“Yes.” I said simply. “They did. And people will die tonight. The question is whether their deaths will mean something.”

The clearing fell silent again, but this time it was different. Less shocked, more contemplative. I could see them wrestling with the mathematics of sacrifice, trying to weigh their own lives against the fate of the world.

It was Fred who spoke next, his voice uncharacteristically serious. “So what you’re really saying is that we’re all probably going to die, but if we’re very lucky and very clever, we might take enough of them with us to make a difference.”

“That’s one way to put it.” I admitted. “Frankly, if you could take them out rather than them taking you out, then I’m happy.”

“Cheerful.” George muttered.

“But accurate.” His twin replied.

I was about to respond when a new voice cut through the night air, rich with mockery and disdain.

“My, my. Such inspiring leadership. I’m sure they’re all ready to follow you into the mouth of hell itself, now.”

Every wand in the clearing was drawn in an instant, all pointed toward the treeline where the voice had originated. The temperature seemed to drop ten degrees as tension ratcheted through the group like a physical force.

My own wand was in my hand before I’d consciously decided to draw it, my muscles coiled for action.

“Show yourself.” I called, putting as much authority into my voice as I could muster.

A figure emerged from the shadows between the trees. Even in the moonlight, Blackthorn’s distinctive silhouette was unmistakable— tall, lean, with that particular way of holding himself that suggested a life of luxury.

“Blackthorn.” My voice came out harder than I’d intended, but I didn’t try to soften it. “What are you doing here? I expected you’d be back at the castle.”

He stepped fully into the clearing, his eyes reflecting the moonlight. His usual smirk was firmly in place, but there was something different about him tonight— an edge of genuine anger beneath the practiced cynicism.

“Such a warm welcome.” He drawled, apparently unbothered by the dozen wands still trained on him. “Here I am, offering my services in your hopeless crusade, and this is how you greet me.”

“Your services?” I couldn’t keep the disbelief out of my voice. “Since when do you care about anyone but yourself?”

“Since never.” He replied cheerfully. “But it turns out that Grindelwald’s version of world domination doesn’t include a place for people like my family. That is something I cannot abide.”

Several members of our group exchanged glances.

“So this is revenge?” Hermione asked, her voice sharp with suspicion.

“Partially.” Blackthorn admitted without shame. “But also pragmatism. If Grindelwald succeeds in opening his portal to the Abyss, the world becomes a very boring place. No more games, no more…”

He turned his gaze towards Ophelia, who glared right back. “No more interesting challenges. Just endless servitude to a fool with a god complex.”

“And you prefer the world as it is.” I said slowly.

“I prefer a world where I have room to operate.” He corrected.

Fred made a disgusted sound. “So you’re only here because it’s convenient.”

Blackthorn’s smile sharpened. “Naive as ever, Weasley. Did you think everyone here was motivated by pure altruism? Look around you. Half these people are here because they’re terrified of what happens if they’re not. A quarter are here because they think it makes them heroes. Maybe one in ten is actually here purely out of love for humanity.”

His words hit uncomfortably close to home. I could see several people flinch, recognizing uncomfortable truths in his assessment.

“What’s your point?” I asked, trying to keep my voice level.

“My point is that motivation doesn’t matter. Results do. And I get results.”

“We can’t trust you.” Harry said quietly. It was the first time he’d spoken since the group had assembled, and his voice carried a weight that made everyone pay attention.

Blackthorn turned his pale gaze on my adoptive brother. “Ah, Potter. Still clinging to your moral superiority, I see. Tell me, when Grindelwald is torturing your friends to death in front of you, will you still care about your trust to me?”

Harry met his gaze steadily. “Yes.”

The simple certainty of the answer seemed to take Blackthorn aback for a moment. Then his smirk returned, though it looked slightly forced.

“We’ll see.” He said softly.

I stepped between them before the confrontation could escalate further. “Harry’s right. Why should we trust you? You’ve been nothing but a nuisance the whole time.”

“You shouldn’t.” Blackthorn replied immediately. “Trust is for people who have the luxury of choosing their allies. You’re facing impossible odds against an enemy who’s had months to prepare. You need every advantage you can get, even if it comes from sources you find distasteful.”

He had a point, much as I hated to admit it. Blackthorn was dangerous, unpredictable, and completely amoral— but he was also incredibly skilled and utterly ruthless. In a straight fight, he was worth at least three ordinary wizards.

“What do you want in return?” I asked.

“Survival.” He said simply. “And after tonight, assuming we all live through it, we go back to pretending the other doesn’t exist. We’re not friends, Clarke. We’re temporary allies of convenience.”

The terms were harsh but honest. I found myself respecting his directness, even as everything else about him made my skin crawl.

“And if we say no?”

His smile turned predatory. “Then I wish you luck in your hopeless endeavor and disappear back into the shadows. But consider this— my family’s had dealings with them, and I have an inkling of their tactics. The question is whether your principles are worth more to you than your lives.”

I looked around the group, trying to gauge their reactions. Most looked uncomfortable but thoughtful. A few— notably Hermione, Ophelia, Mira and Ron— looked actively hostile. But Harry was studying Blackthorn with an expression I couldn’t quite read.

“Harry?” I asked quietly.

My adoptive brother was quiet for a long moment, then nodded slowly. “He’s right about one thing— we need every advantage we can get. And his information could save lives.”

“But can we trust him not to betray us when it suits his purposes?” Hermione demanded.

“No.” I said honestly. “We can’t. But we can trust him to act in his own self-interest, and right now his interests align with ours.”

Blackthorn’s smirk widened. “Such a touching display of pragmatism. I’m almost proud.”

“Don’t.” I warned. “Don’t mistake necessity for approval. You’re here because we need you, not because we want you. The moment this is over, that arrangement ends.”

“Understood.” He said, inclining his head in a mockery of respect.

The group was still tense, still uncertain about this development. I could see the doubt in their faces, the fear that we were making a deal with a devil. Maybe we were. But sometimes that’s what survival required.

“All right.” I said, raising my voice to address the entire group. “Blackthorn joins us, but he follows my orders. No exceptions, no creative interpretations. Are we clear?”

“Crystal.” He replied, though his tone suggested he found the entire exchange amusing.

I turned back to the group. “Anyone who’s uncomfortable with this arrangement is free to leave. I won’t hold it against you.”

But no one moved. Whatever their feelings about Blackthorn, they were committed to seeing this through.

“Good.” I said, feeling a mixture of pride and trepidation. “Then I think it’s time we got this show on the road.”

I reached into my robes and withdrew the long rope I’d prepared earlier, its surface glowing with a dim light.

“Gather around.” I instructed, moving to the center of the clearing. “This Portkey will take us to a location about half a mile from Stonehenge. From there, we go on foot.”

One by one, they approached and grabbed hold of the rope. Harry took position beside me, his presence steadying as always. Hermione and Ron flanked us, followed by the others. Even Blackthorn joined the circle, though he maintained his distance from the rest of the group.

“Once we arrive.” I said, looking around at all their faces one final time. “There’s no going back. This is your last chance to reconsider.”

But I already knew what their answer would be. These people had made their choice long before tonight, through weeks and months of training and preparation. They were here not because they had to be, but because they chose to be.

“Any last words?” Fred asked with forced lightness.

“Yeah.” Sarah said, smirking at the boy. “Try not to die before we do something legendary.”

Despite everything, that earned a few chuckles. I gripped the Portkey tighter, feeling its magic respond to my intent. “Ready?”

A chorus of voices answered in the affirmative, some stronger than others but all determined.

“Fugit.” I spoke the activation phrase clearly.

The world dissolved around us in a whirlwind of colors and sensation, carrying us toward our destiny.