HP: Night of the Wolf

There was a misconception within wizarding Britain that everyone who carried the Moody name was destined to become an auror, but there was no denying that it was a popular tradition for the family, and one that Gabriel had been keen to keep alive.

He had begun applying for a post even before he had graduated from Hogwarts, choosing to follow in the footsteps of two of his aunts, three uncles, and his own father and brother.

Perhaps there was something in the genetics of the Moody's that made them want to be aurors, after all?

Gabriel shook his head of those thoughts as he eyed the men and women he shared a table with.

Abreo was leading the meeting, wanting to be kept well informed of the goings-on on the front line.

The other battle commanders were here too, one man from each nation, or woman, in the case of the Canadians, all responsible for what decisions were made when it came to the war they found themselves embroiled in.

"What are we doing to defeat him?" Abreo asked the room at large.

"We are keeping him out of your country," the Irish commander replied irritably. "There is no reason for us to risk our men by taking the fight to him. It is him that needs to pass us."

"Aye," Gabriel agreed. "You might not like him being on your doorstep, Supreme Mugwump, but keeping him where he is means that he is the one that has to take the risks by pitting his men against our own. This will not be a short war, I'm afraid."

Abreo frowned as he shook his head.

"We cannot allow this to continue indefinitely."

"We should be taking the fight to him," Fox interjected.

"Then when you have finished training your special group," Gabriel said with an undertone of mocking, "you're more than welcome to do as you please. We have a responsibility to our men to keep them as safe as we can, and having them traipsing across an open field where they will be under attack is not doing that."

"How is the training of your men going?" the Spanish commander questioned Fox who shot a glare at Gabriel.

"Not as smoothly as I'd like," she sighed. "Your own man, Ruiz, is nothing but a braggart with extraordinarily little skill to back up all the talk. Are you sure he was the one to fight off the werewolves? From what I have seen, he can barely conjure himself a hanky to wipe his nose."

The Spaniard flushed angrily and cursed in his native tongue.

"Ruiz is a fine man!" he returned heatedly. "My men saw what he did the night the beasts attacked."

"Funny that it is only your men that saw it," Gabriel snorted. "From what I heard, the lot of them shite themselves and it was Arcturus Black and Franklin Bones that fought off the werewolves and erumpents that attacked your section of the trench."

"Lies!" the Spaniard snapped.

"Gentlemen!" Abreo cut in irritably, "fighting amongst ourselves will solve nothing. I'm sure Fox can work with what she has for the time being. We can always supply more suitable men when they become available."

Moody smirked to himself.

Evans and Potter would not be amongst them, even if the former was insane enough.

Despite proclaiming that he would forget the insane notion Evans had put to him, Gabriel had not been able ignore it.

"Perhaps we should move on to the topic of supplies?" Abreo suggested, wanting to avoid any further conflict within the room. "Are our men being well-fed?"

"They are," the French commander answered confidently. "We have food and all other necessities being provided from each nation. Our men will not starve."

"At least that is some good news," Abreo sighed. "What about more men?"

"We could always use more," Gabriel answered, "and we need to give additional training to those we have. They need to be able to fight as a cohesive unit. I have Evans and Potter helping with my group."

"Evans and Potter?" the Irish commander asked. "They're both young and inexperienced."

"But have proven they can lead," Gabriel pointed out. "When the creatures attacked, they readied the men, had them formed up and fighting as one. Who else here only lost three in their groups that night?"

None raised their hand to confirm it and Gabriel nodded satisfactorily.

"You should come and see them work," he offered. "I'm sure you'd be surprised at just how good they are. The Potters are a line of fighters, their pedigree in war undeniable."

"And what about Evans?" Fox asked, her nose wrinkling as though she smelled something unpleasant as she mentioned his name.

She was bitter that Harry had refused to join her group, her pettiness showing through.

"Evans is about the most talented wizard I have ever met," Gabriel returned sincerely. "Some people are born fighters or moulded into them. It could be either with him, but Evans is a natural leader. The boy killed a bloody dragon by himself and is gifted enough in charms that his patronus sent away more than a dozen dementors. How many people do you know that can do that?"

Fox's nostrils flared but she offered no rebuttal, choosing to fume silently instead.

"Are you sure you cannot convince him to join the specialist group?" Abreo asked.

Gabriel shook his head.

"He's not interested," he reiterated. "He said himself that he prefers to be on the front line, and I'd rather he stayed there too. As much as you need men like him in that group, he is needed more where he is."

Abreo reluctantly nodded his understanding.

"I think that will do for this evening," he declared. "We will meet again in a week's time to discuss any developments or pressing matters."

Gabriel stood with the others and watched as they began to file out of the room, his thoughts occupied with his own praise of Evans, mingled with his insane request.

The young man had not steered him wrong yet, so why did Gabriel think so critically of his idea.

Perhaps it was because he was asking for the release of a prisoner, something that went against everything Gabriel believed in.

He was an auror first, and criminals should be kept behind bars.

'But what if she could be as useful as Evans claims?'

The thought popped into his mind and Gabriel shook his head as he internally cursed his second in command.

"May I have a word with you, in private?" he requested of Abreo who frowned questioningly before nodding.

"I think Monsieur Moody has proven he is trustworthy," the Frenchman said to his guards irritably. "You may wait outside the door, and do make sure no one listens in."

Reluctantly, the men in the white robes took their leave of the room, ensuring that Fox left ahead of them.

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

Gabriel couldn't help but notice how tired the man appeared to be.

The dark circles around his sunken eyes were prominent and his skin paler than would be deemed healthy.

It was as though he hadn't seen the sun much recently and Gabriel felt for him.

Being Supreme Mugwump of the ICW was no easy task, something that could only be much more stressful during the current climate.

"I do not know how aware you are being kept of how things are in the trenches, but I, along with others, are certain we have a spy or spies living amongst our men."

"Spies?" Abreo replied worriedly. "Are you sure?"

Gabriel nodded.

"The attack that took place during the award ceremony…"

"A poor decision in hindsight," Abreo sighed.

"For them to attack during the short period of the ceremony and the one part of the trench that was considerably undermanned is too convenient for it to be a coincidence. Someone is feeding the other side information."

Abreo released a deep breath.

"As much as I do not wish for this to be true, I would be a fool to dismiss it as front-line paranoia. Do you have any idea who it could be?"

Gabriel shook his head.

"I've had Evans and Potter looking into it, but as they rightly pointed out, it is impossible to carry out a discreet investigation in the trenches, and I would be reluctant to make it known what we are doing."

"The spy could flee," Abreo mused aloud.

"And it would create an atmosphere of distrust," Gabriel added. "No, this needs to be handled as quietly as possible."

"But your men have had no luck?"

"No, and I don't think they will," Gabriel sighed. "Evans is right. It is not possible to navigate the trenches undetected."

Abreo offered Gabriel a speculative look.

"This Evans is proving to be a popular man."

Gabriel snorted amusedly.

"He killed a dragon," he replied simply. "He fended off a group of dementors, killed several werewolves, and protected his comrades. He has their utmost respect."

"This is why he will not join the specialist group, because he feels he will be abandoning his companions?"

"I don't think so," Gabriel disputed. "I don't think Fox has much to offer him for one thing, and he is firm in his belief that the men in the trenches need to be better trained."

"I find myself agreeing with him," Abreo returned with a shake of his head. "The specialist group could be useful, but it will be the men in the thick of the fighting that will win the war."

"It will be," Gabriel agreed, "but we cannot have spies in our ranks. We have already witnessed how dangerous they can be."

"Indeed," Abreo murmured thoughtfully. "I suppose you have an idea to solve this problem?"

"Not exactly," Gabriel replied, "but Evans made a suggestion. I don't like it, but he's not been wrong yet."

"His suggestion needs my involvement," Abreo deduced. "If it was something you could allow, you would."

"Reluctantly," Gabriel conceded.

Abreo hummed.

"What is this suggestion?"

"I don't know entirely, but he asked me to speak with you regarding the whereabouts of a prisoner of the ICW, an Eleanor Summerbee."

"Summerbee?" Abreo asked, unable to hide his surprise. "What could he possibly want with… Ah, I see."

"Do you?"

Abreo nodded as he released a deep breath.

"Are you not aware of the Summerbee case? It was quite well reported across the continent."

"I can't say that I am."

"Well, she didn't break into the Gringotts in London, so it may have escaped the attention of the British press," Abreo mused aloud. "She was a bank robber, and a remarkably successful one. The goblins were at their wits end trying to figure out how she was entering and getting away with thousands of galleons from their master vaults."

"Bloody hell," Gabriel snorted, "she must have been good."

"Oui," Abreo acknowledged. "It took the efforts of The Serpent to capture her."

"The Serpent?"

"Oui, and she managed to evade capture for months," Abreo said amusedly. "She is an animagus and used her ability to great effect. I suppose Evans would like to implement her skill to find this spy."

"That makes sense," Gabriel grumbled unhappily.

He did not like this idea.

Even if he could convince Abreo to have her released for this, she couldn't be trusted. Summerbee could simply flee, and if it took The Serpent months to track her down the first time…

"Well, I'm afraid that even if I was inclined to release her even temporarily, it is not a decision I can make. Ms Summerbee is a prisoner of the ICW, but she was sent to carry out her sentence in Italy who are currently siding with Grindelwald. I have no authority there."

"In Italy?" Gabriel chuckled, relieved by the revelation.

"Oui," Abreo confirmed leaning forward conspiratorially, "she is being held in Le Oscure Profondita, an underwater prison between the Italian mainland and Sicily, or so I was informed before the Italians defected."

"Why are you telling me this?" Gabriel asked warily.

"Because, Monsieur Moody, to win wars we must sometimes bend the rules we set ourselves. Miss Summerbee could solve a very serious problem we face. I'm sure that if she was to be liberated, she would be grateful enough to offer her assistance. I will leave you with that information," Abreo added as he stood. "I think we have more important things that require our focus than low-level prisoners that our being held in a place that is no longer within our jurisdiction, don't you?"

Moody could only watch as the Frenchman left with a grin tugging at his lips.

He had expected the man to dismiss the idea completely, and though he had been unable to officially give his blessing, he had not condemned the idea.

The crafty git had given Gabriel all the information he needed.

"Bloody hell!" Moody cursed.

He needn't give the matter much thought, he knew what was coming and he liked it even less than Evans' original idea, though now he suspected the young man knew it would come to this.

"Little bastard," Gabriel grumbled, shaking his head as he too left the room, vowing that he would curse Evans when he saw him.

(Break)

Dear Minerva,

I'm sorry that I worry you so much, but you know me well enough to know that I can't promise I won't do it again.

This is what my life has always been like.

I've fumbled from one disaster into the next, the only respite being the years I shared with you at Hogwarts.

The difference now is that I'm not a helpless boy that can't take care of myself. I know that you will worry, but it won't be this war that kills me, so please try not to.

I hope you're enjoying your summer at home and say hello to your mum and dad for me.

I'm not sure when I will be able to see you, but I will come as soon as I can.

H

Minerva added the letter to the box of others she had received from Harry since he had been away.

It had been several months since she had seen him now, though it felt much longer.

She knew that she had grown to care for him, that the spark that had been between them since they met had ignited a flame within her, but it was much more than that now.

The thought of him being where he was had filled her with a sense of dread that she wouldn't see him again despite his assurances, and helplessness.

What happened on the continent was beyond her control, and with Harry being the way he was, his life was in mortal danger.

As much as she liked to think of him as an invincible tower of strength, he was still but a man, a strong man, but a man, nonetheless.

"Stupid man," she muttered to herself though there was no bitterness in the declaration.

Minerva missed Harry and wanted nothing more than for him to return home as unscathed as he had left.

She snorted at the thought.

Every confrontation he found himself in, Harry seemed to come away with a new scar, another mark that marred the canvas his flesh had become that told the story of all he'd endured.

As for her own summer, it had been fraught with worry, each day bringing her closer to when she would return to Hogwarts for another year of apprenticing under Albus where she could escape the maudlin thoughts that plagued her.

Still, she had August to get through first, but before then, Harry would be celebrating his birthday in the next few days.

Minerva never knew what to get him, and this year was no different, but somehow more important.

She had bought him Theseus for Christmas the first year they had met, and an array of other gifts for the others for the festive celebrations and his birthdays.

What could she possibly get him whilst he was away in the trenches?

She smiled as an idea hit her, but it did mean she would need to pay a visit to the castle.

It was a simple thing, but something Harry mentioned in his letter had inspired her.

It was something quite simple, but something she hoped would elicit the same response she'd just experienced as she thought of it.

(Break)

"Faster," Harry commanded. "Shielding each other when needed could be the difference between life and death, but you need to be quick, and you need to trust each other."

"We're knackered," Gilbert wheezed. "We need to take a break."

"Do you think that lot over there will give you a break?" Harry snapped, pointing in the general direction of Grindelwald's trenches. "Do you think they will hesitate to kill you because you're feeling tired?"

Gilbert shook his head, and the rest of the group Harry and Charlus had taken the time to begin training looked anywhere but at Harry who was growing frustrated.

The members of the DA during his fifth year had put in more effort than half of the men here were.

"How many of you have family waiting for you to come home?" Harry asked.

All of the men raised their hands.

"Do you want to see them again?"

The men nodded.

"Do you want to survive this?"

"Of course we do," Gilbert huffed.

"Then stop complaining and do what I'm asking you to," Harry instructed firmly. "If you don't take this more seriously than anything you've ever done, you will die. You've all seen what Grindelwald and his men will do to you if you give them the chance. Don't give that to them. Now, one more time."

Harry watched as they formed up into groups of three; one responsible for shielding, one for casting, and the other flitting between the two as needed.

"Shouldn't they all be switching between casting and shielding?" Charlus questioned as Harry joined him.

"They're not ready for that," Harry sighed. "They need to learn to work together on a basic level. It's not as effective as each of them switching, but it should keep them safer than what they've been doing so far."

Charlus nodded his agreement.

"That's better," Harry praised. "I want you practicing this as much as possible," he added when he spotted an unhappy Gabriel Moody approaching. "I want you to be so fast that you're in your groups and ready to fight before I finish giving you the command to form up. I'll be testing you."

The men grumbled as they were dismissed, but they would understand the importance of what Harry was doing.

He was trying to turn them into a competent fighting force, one that would not only be cohesive, but one that would survive.

"They'll get there," Charlus said confidently. "It'll be a lot of work, but they will make it."

"They'd better hope so," Harry muttered. "They will die if they don't."

That was the truth of the matter, the fate that awaited them if they failed.

"I see you're putting them through their paces," Moody said approvingly as he reached them.

"They need it," Harry replied simply.

"Aye," Moody agreed, "but it will have to wait. I want a word with the pair of you."

Harry and Charlus followed the auror back into the trenches where he led them to their own room before locking the door behind them and casting a series of privacy charms.

Moody stared at Harry speculatively for a moment before deflating slightly.

"Against my better judgement, I made enquiries with the Supreme Mugwump pertaining to your bank robber," he informed him. "I don't know what the hell I'm thinking, but if you can convince her to help us, then you have my blessing."

Harry nodded gratefully.

"But," Moody continued before Harry could speak, "I don't know how the hell you're going to manage this, Evans. According to Abreo, she is being kept in an underwater prison in the Mediterranean Sea between Italy and Sicily. Since she is a prisoner of Italy, Abreo has said in no uncertain terms that she is beyond his jurisdiction. He has all but given his blessing for you to use her, but it will be done unofficially."

"That seems fair."

Moody shook his head and released a deep breath.

"I'm putting a lot of trust in you Evans," he sighed. "You're taking a substantial risk, but if you somehow manage to get her out, then by all means, use her, but she is your responsibility. If she somehow compromises the safety of the men in any way, you will dispose of her. Understood?"

"Understood," Harry replied.

Gabriel eyed him once more.

"In that case, I am granting you permission to take your leave of the trenches, but you will do so undercover of dark and speak to no one of this. If you are not back here within seventy-two hours from now, I will assume that you are either dead or missing in action. Don't make me have to explain your foolishness."

"Can I take him?" Harry asked, jerking a thumb in Charlus's direction.

Moody snorted as his gaze shifted towards the Potter lord.

"Like I could stop him even if I wanted to," he muttered before heading towards the door. "I'd use these hours to prepare for anything and everything. Merlin knows what you'll be facing down there."

"What's the name of the prison?" Harry questioned.

"Le Oscure Profondita."

With that, Moody was gone, and Harry nodded thoughtfully to himself.

He had never heard of the prison in question, knew nothing of the protections surrounding it.

For all he knew, it could be impenetrable, impossible to break into or out of, though the same had once been said of Azkaban.

"What are you thinking?" Charlus asked worriedly as Harry seemingly made a decision of sorts and began penning a letter.

When he was done, he placed it in a box and tapped it with his wand, muttering a few words that Charlus couldn't here.

"I'm seeing what we can learn about this place."

"So, we wait?"

"We wait," Harry confirmed, taking a seat on his bunk, and leaning back as calmly as though he had merely requested a menu for a new restaurant.

Charlus did not feel such a way, a sense of anticipation and nervousness having set in.

He didn't know how many prisons Harry had broken into, but he suspected it was none.

How the man could be so calm about what they were planning to do was baffling to Charlus, but he himself didn't feel as apprehensive as he probably should have.

He would be with Harry, and he knew that in his heart of hearts, nothing untoward would happen to him.

(Break)

They had chosen to temporarily reside in a house in the Lake District, a humbler home than their own but one that afforded them the privacy they had become accustomed to and offered them scenic views.

Perenelle had been busy erecting and filling her greenhouses since they had arrived, and Nicholas had taken to enjoying nature walks where he had picked up a stray dog that had seemingly been roughing it for a while in the woods.

She had no collar and had been quite thin until the alchemist had created a brew to bring her back up to health.

He had named her Camille and the young Labrador was evidently grateful for Nicholas taking her in.

She would follow him wherever he went and spent the less active evenings slumbering by his feet in front of the fire.

"When we return home, it won't be us that has dogshit thrown over our wall," the Frenchman chuckled gleefully.

Perenelle shot him a look of warning but said nothing.

She was just pleased her husband had let something else into his life, though she was opposed to his plan of feeding the dog some of their elixir.

"Have you checked your box today?" Perenelle asked.

"I have not," Nicholas gasped as he stood suddenly, startling Camille as he did so.

He headed to the bedroom and to the side table where the box stood.

Opening it, he immediately noticed Harry's scrawl, though this note was penned more hurriedly.

With a frown, he read it aloud under his breath, shaking his head amusedly at Camille whose tail thumped rhythmically against his leg.

"What on earth is he up to now," Nicholas sighed as he left the room, carrying the box with him and tapping it with his wand.

"A letter from Harry?" Perenelle asked eagerly.

Nicholas nodded.

"He wants information on Le Oscure Profondita."

"The Italian prison?"

"Oui," Nicholas confirmed, consulting the book he had requested before penning a reply to the young man.

With a shake of his head, he placed both in the box before sending it off.

"What could he possibly want to know about a prison for?" Perenelle asked.

"I think it is best we do not ask for specifics," Nicholas chuckled. "Knowing Harry, it is likely he is going to do something that will only cause you worry."

Perenelle nodded her agreement, her lips pursed slightly.

"You do not think he is going to break into it?"

"My love, that is exactly what I think he is going to do."

(Break)

Dear Harry,

There is little that I can tell you about the Italian prison, but I would urge you to be cautious with whatever your intentions are.

Wizarding prisons are amongst the most protected buildings in our world, so I would expect much more than you will find listed in the book.

I do not wish to know what you are doing but be careful.

Nicholas

Harry pocketed the letter before turning his attention to the book the brief note had been attached.

The Most Notorious Prisons of the Wizarding World by Hector Gregor.

Harry thumbed through the pages of the book until he came to the section he was looking for, frowning at how short the block of text referring to the prison was.

Le Oscure Profondita is a prison that can be found in the Mediterranean Sea between the Island of Sicily and the mainland of Italy, though its exact location has not been made public.

Little is known about the layout of the prison nor the protections in place. However, many sightings of Shrake, Ramora, Hippocampus, Merepeople, Grindylows, and Horned Serpents have been reported in the sea, and even some unfounded claims that the water itself around the prison is haunted by various spirits that ensure prisoners do not escape.

Le Oscure Profondita is not open to visitors and serves as an execution sight for the Italian Ministry of Magic.

"Well, that's bloody useful," Harry sighed as he closed the book and placed it back in the box.

"Were you expecting a detailed map and a key?" Charlus asked mockingly.

"No, but a little more certainty would have been nice," Harry grumbled, not that he would be deterred from the task ahead.

It would resemble the old days when he would find himself in the unknown, tackling each problem as it came upon him.

There would be no Ron nor Hermione to help him this time, but he had Charlus, and the two of them were not clueless teenagers who would be relying on sheer luck.

"So, we are still going?"

Harry nodded.

"We are leaving as soon as possible," Harry confirmed.

"We need to make it to the south of Italy, and we can't apparate or portkey without drawing attention to ourselves. I'd rather not add to the problems we will face."

"How will we get there?" Charlus questioned.

Harry turned towards the map Moody insisted he kept on the wall with up-to-date positions of their own men and enemies.

With a tap of his wand, it zoomed out into a map of the entire continent.

Having studied very little geography at primary, it took a few moments of searching before he located Italy, and then Sicily just south of it.

"Well, there won't be a shortcut there," he sighed. "We will take a portkey to Malta and fly from there."

"What good would that do?" Charlus huffed. "Look at all the water. It could be bloody anywhere in that sea."

Harry shook his head as he pointed to a grid on the map.

"It will be here."

"And how do you know that?"

"Because it is in the dead centre of just about the two furthest points between Italy and Sicily. Why would they bloody put it anywhere else?"

It made sense, and though Harry was irritated by his own observation, Charlus couldn't help but be more than a little by how much it bothered his friend.

That was until he saw the distance they would be from land.

"That's almost 100 miles out at sea!" he pointed out.

"Not so funny now, is it?" Harry returned with a smirk. "Come on, even from Malta we will have about 160 miles of flying to do."

Charlus groaned.

"I'm just glad I have my own broom," he grumbled.

After what had happened with the dragon, he had sent a letter home asking for his mother to forward it on.

It had arrived only the previous morning with a note from Angelica Potter urging him to be careful.

"I'm not looking forward to this any more than you are," Harry offered comfortingly.

"Bollocks," Charlus denied as he checked his trunk before shrinking and pocketing it. "You live for this madness, Evans. I should have known better than to get mixed up with the likes of you."

Harry laughed heartily as he clapped the other man on the shoulder.

"Come on, the sooner we leave the sooner we can return to this palace."

Charlus grimaced at the thought, but before he could reply, Harry had seized him by the shoulder and the two of them were whisked away from the trenches, but to somewhere that was somehow more dangerous.

As they arrived, the smell of burning filled their nostrils, the sound of engines roaring in their ears, something that was drowned out by an explosion that rent the air, followed by another.

Charlus felt the wind being knocked out of him as he was pulled hard to the ground by Harry who proceeded to drag him into a nearby alleyway.

Looking up at the sky, he watched as dozens of planes flew over them, but these were lower than Charlus was used to, and different to any he had ever seen.

"What the fuck is going on?" he demanded.

The explosions continued, but steadily grew more distant as the planes deposited their bombs.

Machine gun fire sounded soon after as they reached the coast in the distance, the tracer bullets visible to those on the ground.

"Muggle warfare," Harry answered grimly. "Come on, let's get out of here before they come back."

Charlus didn't need telling twice, and with many of the surrounding buildings on fire and the citizens in panic, their presence wasn't noticed, and they made it to the coast without issue.

"So long as we don't run into any problems, it should only take two to three hours at most to reach where we need to be. Just follow me and keep a look out for planes. It's dark so we won't be seen."

Charlus nodded his understanding and retrieved his broom from within his trunk, following Harry into the air when he kicked off from the ground.

Looking back over his shoulder, the island they had landed on was aflame, the war here seemingly more heated than the muggle conflict happening only a short distance from their own trenches.

At least they didn't have aeroplanes flying over and dropping bombs near them.

For the time being.

Charlus could not be sure how long he followed Harry, but despite that they were well into the summer season, it was not warm as high up as they flew.

After what seemed to be an hour, they were passing over another island, this one seemingly peaceful, though Harry pulled back to speak to Charlus.

"That's Sicily," he informed him. "I've never been there but it is an Italian territory. We don't want to be spotted here."

Charlus nodded, and soon enough, the island was at their backs as they once more found themselves with only the sea below them, and when Harry came to a stop next, it was sudden.

When Charlus caught up to him, Harry had his wand in hand and a deep frown creasing his brow as he murmured under his breath.

Not wanting to disturb his friend, Charlus merely watched in fascination as Harry conducted his work until he hummed thoughtfully.

"Looks like we are going in."

"Are you sure this is the right place?"

Harry nodded.

"How do you know?" Charlus pressed.

"Because every instinct is telling me that we shouldn't be here."

Charlus swallowed deeply.

He had never seen Harry so on edge before, not when they had come under attack from Grindelwald's men, not even as the beasts descended on them on the battlefield.

"Are you sure about this?"

"We will be fine," Harry said dismissively, "just stay away from the reeds, and keep your wits about you. Do you know the bubblehead charm?"

"I do," Charlus confirmed.

"Then you will need to cast it and stay close. If you find yourself in trouble, a bright light will get my attention. We don't know what we will face down there, but the water is deep. Anything could be in the shadows."

Charlus was beginning to feel more nervous now, and he hoped Harry was simply being cautious.

Still, he did as instructed and cast the bubblehead charm before shrinking his broom and pocketing it as they plunged into the water.

"Bloody hell that's cold," he gasped.

Harry chuckled as he lit the tip of his wand and submerged himself, followed by a trembling Charlus.

If being a Hit-Wizard meant enduring so much discomfort, the Potter lord was glad he had never considered such a career.

It really did take a certain type of person to do it, someone like the friend he was tailing as he swam further down into the murky depths.

Charlus could see only what seemed to now be a small speck of light that he followed.

He could hear nothing, and he felt more vulnerable in the water than he ever had during his life.

Humans, even magical ones did not belong here, and he felt the same instinct to flee that Harry had spoken of before they had even plunged into the depths.

It was unnerving to say the least, but he persevered until he felt a hand on his chest, preventing him proceeding any deeper.

The expression Harry wore now was one of warning, but he closed his eyes as though he was blindly searching for something.

With a sudden gesture, a bright spell was sent from his wand, and the seabed below was illuminated.

Charlus cursed as dozens upon dozens of creatures dispersed in all directions at the intrusion of light and Harry took a firm hold of his wrist, keeping him in place as he scanned the area around them.

He saw a shadow in his periphery, but by the time Charlus looked, it was gone.

Another to his right, and one to his left before they came frequently, but too quickly to focus on.

They were surrounded, and though Charlus's grip tightened around his wand, and he became tense, Harry remained calm but poised, ready to strike.

And strike he did.

How Harry had pre-empted the exact moment the beastly little creatures with long, spindly fingers would attack, he knew not, but the golden flames that erupted around them was timed perfectly.

Even through the water the screeches could be heard as the creatures that were not quick enough to flee this time were scorched, and Charlus could only marvel at the feat of magic he was witnessing.

What fire could burn so hot that it could not even be snuffed by water?

He had not time to ponder it as Harry pulled him further into the depths until they reached the floor that remained lit from his previous spell.

Once more, they were seemingly alone, the creatures having fled.

They would be foolish to return.

Secure in that knowledge, Charlus turned his attention away from the surrounding water and back to Harry who was on his knees, pushing aside sand and small stones as he searched for something.

What that was, Charlus didn't know, but he watched in fascination as Harry began arranging rocks in what appeared to be a random pattern, something he ceased as he turned sharply, his eyes following something Charlus couldn't see.

It was disconcerting, and again, the Potter lord felt a sense of discomfort wash over him, something that evolved into terror as Harry brandished his wand.

A creature like nothing else Charlus had ever seen crashed into the hastily conjured barrier.

It was enormous, fish-like in appearance, but covered in sharp spines that would undoubtedly penetrate through any living man.

Charlus had never seen a beast so huge. It must have been at least double the size of the Knight Bus.

Striking the barrier did nothing to deter it.

It returned only a moment later and threw itself at it again, the magic visibly wobbling from the blow that formed small cracks on the surface.

This creature was nothing like the first they had encountered.

It was impossibly fast, aggressive, and would unlikely be put off so easily.

Whatever it was they faced was no apex predator, something that would only strike at the most advantageous opportunity. This was a monster that was willing to fight any that wandered into its lair, and it seemed that Harry and Charlus had done just that.

Charlus felt his concern grow as a look of uncertainty formed across Harry's features until he nodded darkly and gestured for him to retreat.

What Harry could possibly be thinking, Charlus would not even hazard a guess.

In the minutes or hours that had passed since they had left the trenches, he had learned so much about his friend, yet now had more questions than ever.

The burning one in this moment, however, was what Harry was planning?

How would he overcome this obstacle?

At the speed the beast moved with and how agile it was, Charlus doubted that even Harry could hit it with a spell.

Evidently, Harry thought the same, but he also seemed to have an idea.

Retrieving one of the rocks, he shaped it into what looked to be a crude dagger, and Charlus shook his head.

A creature that size wouldn't be harmed by that.

Another assault on the barrier came and the cracks grew ever longer.

One more of those and it would collapse.

What was Harry thinking attempting to fend off such a monster with such a pitiful weapon?

Before Charlus could question his friend's actions to the man himself, Harry had drawn his wand across his palm, cutting the skin deep enough for blood to pour from the wound.

He then took hold of his roughly hewn blade in the injured hand before casting a bubble around it that almost immediately filled with blood.

When he was done, Harry braced himself, and Charlus's eyes widened at the realisation of what was about to happen.

He had no time to intervene.

As the creature smashed through the barrier, Harry grabbed hold of one of the spines next to its jaw and Charlus could only watch in horror as he was dragged into the shadows, the disturbance the two created disappearing as quickly as the monster shifted through the water.

For what felt like an eternity, Charlus watched for any sign of movement, a lead weight of fear weighing him down and a prevailing sense of helplessness keeping him rooted.

"Come on, Harry," he urged through gritted teeth.

As though his plea had been heard, Charlus caught sight of movement to his left, and breathed a sigh of relief when he saw that Harry was still alive, the monstrosity he clung to, seemingly in its final throes of life.

It was certainly not moving as fast as it was, and though it was still fighting, its efforts were quite feeble, even if it had only been stabbed by a stone dagger coated in Harry's blood.

Blood magic was something that Charlus had no understanding of.

Other than the ritual he had performed on himself to strengthen his connection to his own magic, he'd have nothing to do with the art.

It was dangerous, imprecise, and was best left alone.

His father had been very firm on that, though Charlus did wonder how Harry had gotten into such a thing.

Not that now was the moment to make enquiries.

Even though the monster that had stalked them was all but dead, the task they had set themselves was not yet complete.

If Charlus had his way, the two of them would surface and return to the trenches, but there was no chance of that.

Harry would ensure they saw it through to the end, and though he was now sporting some unpleasant welts and cuts to his skin, he went back to work on the rock formation after giving Charlus a thumbs-up to let him know he was fine.

He was fine.

Charlus couldn't believe that an encounter like the one Harry had just faced was being so easily dismissed, but what did he truly expect from a man that had already slayed a dragon?

He released a deep breath as Harry beckoned him closer and pointed to the stones that now resembled a profile of someone's face.

Who this man was, Charlus didn't know but as Harry tapped it with his wand, a large hole formed that the two of them were sucked into.

Charlus screamed as they fell uncontrollably for what must have been hundreds of metres below the sea, though he couldn't be certain of much.

A putrid smell filled his nose, and Charlus realised his bubble had failed. Almost immediately, he felt faint, and although he could see nothing, he felt his vision start to swim and his head pounded before he lost consciousness, his body plummeting deeper and deeper into the abyss with Harry somewhere below him.