On the Eve of War

The arrival of The Daily Prophet heralded a stunned silence amongst staff and students alike within Hogwarts. Harry had been adamant that war was on the horizon, but Minerva had not wanted to believe him.

Calling All Able-Bodied Men of Wizarding Britain!

The following article had been a brief explanation of how terrible things had become on the continent, the corruption discovered within the ICW that had led to a lack of action, and the subsequent need for men to defend the country as they had some three-decades-ago.

Minerva could only shake her head in disbelief, but if there was anyone who had taken the news worse, it was her mentor.

Upon the arrival of the newspaper, the man had paled, and had remained silent since.

Unusually, the students were subdued, the younger years asking their older housemates what this meant, some becoming inconsolable when they realised their fathers, and perhaps their mothers could be called upon to fight the threat emerging, not only just in Europe, but across the globe.

Minerva too felt lost.

Although her father was not at risk, many of her friends were, and seeing Harry arrive and standing in the doorway, his expression grim, did little to assuage her fears.

She felt pleased to see him, as she always did, but with the war looming, if there was any that would be in the thick of it, it was him.

He approached, the students taking little notice of him as he did so, and he came to a stop at the top table.

"When you have some free time, headmaster," he said simply.

Professor Dippet nodded.

"Wait in my office. I will be along shortly with the rest of the staff."

With a nod, Harry shot Minerva a smile and left the hall as the headmaster stood to address the room.

"In light of the news we have received, all lessons for today are cancelled," he announced. "Please feel free to make use of the school owls if you do not have one to write to your loved ones, and take some time to allow this to sink in. Please, rest assured, that whilst you are within these walls, you will be safe."

Many of the students immediately took their leave, but Minerva remained at the staff table.

"I can only imagine he has more to tell us," Rosalina murmured.

"Evans?" Slughorn asked. "What more can he know?"

"I'm sure we will find out shortly," Dippet interjected. "Come, there is no time like the present."

The members of staff filed from the room and made their way towards the headmaster's office.

Minerva suspected that even if Harry had not arrived, they would have been asked there.

Although the fighting would be far away from the castle, or so she hoped, measures would need to be put in place to keep the students safe, and to protect the castle.

When they arrived, Harry was already inside and talking with the Sorting Hat.

"Is that so?" the hat asked curiously.

"It is," Harry confirmed. "Don't worry, I won't tell anyone."

"I'm sure Godric himself would appreciate your discretion on the matter."

"And what matter would that be?" Dippet questioned.

"Just something I learned about the hat here," Harry replied casually. "It's quite an artefact."

The hat said nothing further, and the headmaster did not ask for Harry to elaborate. Instead, Professor Dippet waved his wand and the small table in the centre of the room transformed into a much bigger one that the staff could sit around comfortably.

"Before I begin with what this means for the school, was there anything you wished to share, Harry?"

Harry nodded.

"This has been a ling time coming," he sighed. "For months, things have steadily gotten worse on the continent. Grindelwald's influence has been spreading, and he has met no resistance from the ICW who was being led by a traitor."

"Sato?" Dumbledore asked disbelievingly.

"The very same," Harry confirmed. "He has broken the Statute of Secrecy, and under Veritaserum, has admitted that he is a supporter of Grindelwald. He has been arrested, but what that means for the ICW is up to them to decide. I suppose many will rescind or suspend their membership, and others will join Grindelwald."

It was not good news, and the staff muttered unhappily amongst themselves for several moments.

"Can you shine any further light on what will happen?" Dippet asked.

"All I know is that the ICW is looking to build an army to fight against Grindelwald, who has a significant force of his own. This war will not be over quickly. The battle lines have not even been drawn yet."

Armando nodded his understanding.

"That means that I will be placing the school under measures that would keep those within safe," he announced. "Students will return home at the regular intervals throughout the year, but for now, all outings are cancelled. If necessary, I will implement further measures. Please do offer as much reassurance as you can and be understanding. Many students here will have fathers that will answer the call to fight for Great Britain. That is all for now."

The professors said little as they exited the office, leaving Minerva with, the headmaster, Albus, and Harry.

"How bad is it, lad?" Dippet asked.

"Much worse than you can imagine," Harry answered darkly. "From what little I know, he has gathered an ever-growing army that will not be stopped easily. I will look into it as best I can and keep you informed. The person I do need to speak to most is you, Dumbledore."

"Me?"

Harry nodded.

"We can either do this here, or in private. It makes no difference to me."

"Here is fine," Albus sighed sadly.

"I need to know what weaknesses he has," Harry said candidly. "You were his friend once, and if there is anything you can tell me that will help, it could be the difference in winning or losing."

Minerva was shocked.

There was no need for her to ponder who the he was that Harry was referring to. There was only one person it could be.

"Do you intend to fight him, Harry?" Dumbledore asked worriedly.

"I already have," Harry huffed. "We fought, and neither of us won or lost, but it will happen again. He will not be content until he has killed me. I have put too many of his followers away and stepped on his toes for him to just forget about me."

"You fought him?" Minerva whispered fearfully. "Why?"

"He caught me in a trap," Harry sighed. "Professor Dumbledore is the only one that can teach me what I need to know."

Albus chuckled humourlessly, the twinkle in his eyes absent.

"He has no weakness, Harry," he said simply. "Gellert is a brilliant wizard, as dangerous, as resourceful, and resilient as they come. The fact that you survived him once is a miracle in itself."

"You did it," Harry returned evenly. "With whatever happened to your sister, you fought him because of it and survived."

Dumbledore's expression darkened, but Harry did not retreat from the thunderous expression the transfiguration professor wore.

"How did you learn of this?"

"I heard Bathilda Bagshot mention an incident involving your sister and the fallout because of it."

Dumbledore appeared to be furious, but instead of an angry outburst, tears began to glide down his cheeks.

"Albus?" Dippet asked comfortingly.

Dumbledore waved his concern off.

"I was a fool to think that it would stay hidden," he snorted. "We didn't fight because of what happened to my sister, what happened to Ariana happened because of the fighting. Abe never did like Gellert, and I could not stand to see them fight. Ariana was caught in the middle of it, and she died," he choked.

"Because your brother didn't see your vision of a greater good?" Harry pressed.

Albus nodded.

"We were young and foolish, but Gellert seemingly never strayed from the path we set out."

"To subjugate the muggles."

Albus nodded, and Minerva felt her respect for the man slip.

"We were young and ideal," Dumbledore defended. "We never planned for violence, but Gellert has changed that plan by using the tension amongst the muggles to his advantage."

"Idiots," Harry snorted derisively. "So, how do I beat him?"

Albus shook his head, and Minerva looked towards Harry, her eyes pleading for him to reconsider.

"I don't know," Albus mumbled. "He is not a normal wizard. He is extraordinary."

Harry shook his head.

"He is still only a man," he argued. "If you don't want to help me, then don't. I will find a way of doing it myself."

With that, Harry stormed from the room, and Minerva was torn between her anger at her mentor and her worry for her friend.

The latter took precedence, and she followed in Harry's wake, catching up to him as he descended the staircase into the entrance hall.

"Wait!" she called.

Harry did so and deflated.

"Sorry, it's just been a bad week," he said with a shrug.

Minerva gave him an understanding smile.

"Are you okay?" she asked. "You're not hurt, are you?"

"No, nothing like that," Harry assured her. "I just wasn't prepared for it."

"Do you have to be?"

"No one else seems to be trying," Harry huffed irritably. "Everyone else is running scared from him. I can't say I blame them, but if he isn't stopped, this will never come to an end."

Minerva nodded stiffly.

She knew Harry well enough to know that no matter what she said, he wouldn't be deterred from the decision he'd already made.

"Are you going to volunteer?"

He shook his head.

"No, I'm needed to keep doing what I am," he explained. "We may lose some of us if others decide to follow whatever their country does. This is going to divide the world, Minerva. People are going to die, but the only choices are to either fight or let him win. I won't let that happen."

Minerva took Harry's hand and squeezed it comfortingly.

"You know, it's not up to you to save the world."

"Maybe," Harry muttered, pointing to an almost indiscernible white mark next to his left eye. "I have been marked as his equal."

He offered her a smile before he left the castle, leaving behind a young woman full of dread.

The Dark Lord will mark him as his equal…

That was a line from the prophecy he had revealed to her, one that referred to him and Tom Riddle, but how could it mean Grindelwald too?

Minerva knew not.

She didn't understand nor have any interest in divination.

Could a prophecy that didn't even exist yet come into play?

She knew that she couldn't answer that question herself, but she was determined to find someone that could.

Harry's life could well depend on it.

(Break)

Gellert eyed the piles of newspapers on his desk, the news of what had transpired in the ICW having compelled him to obtain the headlines from across the globe.

If he were honest with himself, the fallout of what had happened could have been much worse, but then again, it could have been more favourable.

There were no surprises when it came to those that would oppose, and even less so those that, for now, claimed neutrality. Such a thing wouldn't last, not when the fighting would be brought to them.

Any country that wished to could claim whatever stance they wished, but Gellert would not be satisfied until he had seen his goals achieved.

There would be no neutrality. Countries were either with him, or against him. It mattered not which, they would all comply with his will one way or the other.

"This is most unfortunate," Weber declared.

The man had brought the news of Sato's downfall, the foolish former Supreme Mugwump having become too cocky and arrogant to understand that he was not untouchable.

"It is," Gellert agreed, "but it merely means we proceed a little earlier with some of our plans."

"And where shall we strike next?" Weber asked.

"Poland, of course," Gellert explained. "I want it taken by the end of the week. We need another foothold."

Weber nodded.

"It will be done."

"Good. Ensure that it is, by any means necessary," Gellert instructed. "We do not have time to play with diplomacy any longer. Our expansion must be swift, and without mercy."

Weber smiled and left the study.

It had become clear to Gellert since knowing the crafty German that he enjoyed chaos, and even the suffering of others.

Gellert himself found such things to be in poor taste, but he wouldn't shy away from them when needed, and a streak of ruthlessness was just what he needed now.

He would have preferred his enemies to cave into less unpleasant means of coercion, but he did not have the time nor patience for those measures.

Now was the time for action, and to be victorious, he would need to act swiftly and without conscience.

He would not allow his ambitions to collapse around him because he did not have the stomach to do what was needed to ensure victory.

"For the greater good," he muttered to himself.

(Break)

Entering the chambers where the representatives of the ICW gathered was a sobering experience for Ivan Federov. Where the seats would usually be filled to capacity, many of them were now empty.

Those that had chosen to side with Grindelwald were absent, and even some of those that had chosen to remain neutral had also opted not to attend.

Which countries had made what choice remained to be seen, but Ivan took comfort that many more were here, even if they were currently without a leader.

Seeing that no one seemed to be willing to begin proceedings, he stood and cleared his throat, garnering the attention of those within the room.

"Far be it from you how to tell you what should happen now, but someone needs to fill the position of Supreme Mugwump," he advised. "As things are, it is not an enviable position to hold, but someone must take the lead."

"I would like to nominate myself," Pierre Abreo called, the French representative being one of the longest serving member of the ICW. "I have sat in these chambers for over five decades. I lived through the last war and have seen many great men come and go. I will lead you with integrity, honour, and the bravery that we need to see us through what is to come."

"I would second your nomination," Doge offered supportively. "I have not been here long, but Monsieur Abreo is a man I have come to trust the judgement of."

"Why not?" the Australian representative interjected. "We are all on the same side here."

"Does anyone object or wish to offer themselves as a candidate?" Ivan asked.

None spoke up, and only a moment later, Abreo took his solemn vow to serve the ICW to the best of his ability.

"I understand that you are all concerned about what is to come," he began when he took his place behind his podium. "I am too, but this is a time that we must stand firmly together. If we wish to defeat Grindelwald, we must be unanimously united. Already, his influence has spread, and will continue to do so unless people see that he is being resisted, that there are those willing to fight against him. We must be strong, immovable, and we must do what is necessary for victory. If we do not, then we may fear for our future, but until the last breath is ripped from our lungs, we must fight."

The other representatives gave the Frenchman a round of applause, but Abreo didn't smile nor lap up the praise.

He meant business and seeing such made Ivan realise that the right choice on who should replace Sato had been made.

"Now, I must urge you all to begin steps to ensure the safety of your borders," Abreo continued when the applause died down. "I would suggest setting up apparation points that are monitored, and that must be used by your citizens whilst travelling. It is perhaps the most important thing we can do to ensure that the comings and goings are monitored. Already I have suggested to my own ministry that teams of aurors are ready to respond to apparations that occur away from these designated points."

"An excellent suggestion," the representative of New Zealand declared.

"But a difficult one for my country," the Indian representative added. "Our lands our vast and monitoring it will be difficult."

"I understand," Abreo offered sympathetically. "That is why I suggest we set up a posting there. Once trained, a force can be deployed to assist with the security of India."

"Even a small group of around one hundred men would make a difference," the Indian replied gratefully.

"Then we will ensure that it is a priority," the Frenchman promised. "For all other security measures, it should be up to each country how they manage that. It would be fruitless trying to set a standard when we hail from such different lands, but if there are any suggestions, please do share them."

Federov nodded appreciatively. The circumstances in which they found themselves were undesirable to say the least, but so long as they worked together, there was no reason they should lose.

What worried Ivan now, however, was how quickly they could train, mobilise, and synchronise their respective forces.

Until then, the efforts they could put forth to prevent Grindelwald from continuing to gain further territories would be minimal and offered against a man who would only become more desperate to secure his own positions.

For the short term, the future appeared to be quite bleak, and with time against them, there was so much that each nation needed to do before the resistance could truly begin.

As things were, the best Ivan could do was deploy his own men to monitor situations and report as things occurred in the hope that if things become desperate enough, the ICW could react in a timely manner to keep Grindelwald at bay.

(Break)

William saw no reason to stand on ceremony nor delay the inevitable. He may have only made his intentions known a few days prior, but he had used his time wisely to set the family affairs on order.

Angelica had of course pleaded with him time and again to reconsider his decision, but to no avail.

His mind was made up, and though it hurt him so to see his wife and son so upset, he could not shirk his responsibilities. Charlus was old enough to take the helm where matters of the family were concerned, and Angelica knew the kind of man she was marrying when they first met.

William could not sit idly by and allow others to fight, not when he himself could make a difference.

Having committed himself to joining the war effort, he had made his way to the Ministry of Magic to sign up, as instructed by the article in The Daily Prophet.

Upon arriving in the atrium, he was proud to see that many others were doing the same, leaving him in a sizable queue before he would reach one of the dozen or so aurors that were filling in the necessary forms.

He frowned as a commotion began in the line next to his own and was greeted by the sight of an old man in auror robes that were around fifty-years out of date, the red colour faded, and the man in them having seen better days.

"Don't think I can't still batter you around, laddie," the old man threatened. "I was doing your job before you were pissing your pants."

"Bloody hell, will someone get Gabriel?" the auror on the receiving end of the berating pleaded with his colleagues. "Tell him his grandad is here again."

William chuckled as he recognised Morris Moody who had indeed once been an auror, but not since before the turn of the century. The last he'd heard of the man was that he'd become quite paranoid in his later years and refused to leave his home.

William could only guess that the news of war breaking out had been all the motivation the man needed to attempt to offer his services.

Much to the auror's relief, another familiar figure soon arrived and took charge of the situation.

"Alright grandad, get yourself off home," Gabriel Moody commanded. "How did ye get out anyway?"

"Ain't no one keeping me out of this, lad. I've got a score to settle with the frogs as it is," Morris returned stubbornly.

"The frogs?" Gabriel asked confusedly.

"Aye, the bloody French," Morris explained.

Gabriel shook his head frustratedly.

"Grandad, we're not fighting the French," he sighed.

"Then who are we fighting?"

"Grindelwald. I already told you this, you barmy old sod. Now bugger off, or I'll let one of these lot arrest you."

"Oh, I'd like to see them try. I'll slap the beggars silly, you see if I don't."

Gabriel was slowly losing patience with his grandfather, but William was too amused to intervene, as were everyone else that was looking on.

"Go home, grandad," the younger Moody said firmly. "You're too old for this."

This was not the right thing to say.

With a speed that belied the old man's frail frame, he removed his wand and fired a spell at his grandson who barely managed to shield the attack.

"Are you insane?" Gabriel yelped.

"No, just ready for another fight with the frogs."

Gabriel shook his head in disbelief.

"Grandad, we are not fighting the French!"

Before Morris could respond, Gabriel struck, and restrained his grandfather with some conjured ropes.

"Come on, I'll take you home. Hopefully, nana can talk some sense into you."

Levitating his grandfather in front of him, Gabriel left the atrium with the old man hurling expletives and demanding to be released.

William could only shake his head in amusement.

Morris may have been past his best, but if the army that was going to oppose Grindelwald had more Moody's, the war would be a short one.

"Next!" a voice called, pulling him from his thoughts. "Name?"

"William Potter."

The auror behind the desk looked up in surprise at the reply, a frown of confusion forming.

"Lord Potter, you're volunteering?"

William nodded.

"My title does not mean that I shouldn't do my part," he pointed out.

"Of course," the auror agreed, "but there won't be many other Lords following in your footsteps. Most will send sons or nephews. They won't fight themselves."

"Well, I don't have a son to spare, and would not send one if I did," William replied. "My boy will act in my stead whilst I'm gone."

The auror nodded his understanding.

"And we will be glad to have you, Lord Potter," he said sincerely. "When Moody is back, report to him. He'll be keen to have you in his group. For now, just fill in these papers and pass them back to me when you're done."

William accepted the stack of parchment and headed towards where several rows of chairs had been set out for the purpose of completing the signing up process.

"Mitchinson told me you were here," a gravelly voice broke into his thoughts as he signed the bottom of the last piece with a flourish.

William nodded as he met the gaze of Gabriel Moody.

The two of them had been a few a few years apart at Hogwarts, Gabriel being the younger of the two and in Hufflepuff.

They didn't know each other well, but both were aware of the other's families.

"Your grandfather was keen," William commented.

A ghost of a smirk tugged at Gabriel's lips as he took the seat next to the Potter lord.

"Aye, there's a lot of that at the moment," he sighed. "They'll shit their pants when the spells start flying though. These lot don't know what war is, what it's like to be stuck in a fight for your life."

"Neither do I," William pointed out.

"No, but you know enough about loss, and if I remember correctly, you were no slouch with your wand."

"I can handle myself."

Gabriel nodded.

"Aye, just like your old man could. My father always spoke highly of Henry. Said he was one of the few people he could rely on when things got tough. I was hoping I could rely on you the same way, and you me, Potter."

"Is this you asking me to join your group?" William questioned.

"It is," Gabriel confirmed, offering his hand.

William accepted it.

"There's not many of us, but I got the pick of the bunch. We've got some good lads with us, even one of Yaxley's boys. He's a miserable git, but he can handle himself alright."

"At least I know I'll have skilled people watching my back."

"The best," Gabriel assured him. "Come on, they'll be in the training room now. I'll introduce you."

William stood and followed the auror, a sense of nervousness he'd never experienced settling in the pit of his stomach.

Angelica had been right what she had said about his own father. Henry Potter had gone to war in a similar fashion a little over three decades ago, and William had not seen him again.

He could only hope that Charlus would not endure the same loss he had, if only to spare him from the helplessness that William had carried all these years.

(Break)

As it had been the past few days, the front page of The Daily Prophet was calling for more men to join the impending fight against Grindelwald.

Arcturus had seen for himself the droves of wizards arriving at the Ministry to offer their services, the gold offered by the ICW for doing so not insignificant to the average working man.

For three galleons a week, they were to risk life and limb for a war that they likely didn't understand, but the Black heir respected the pride and fortitude they were showing.

It took guts to willingly throw yourself in the midst of battle, and the recruitment drive was seemingly doing well so far.

"I'm surprised that you haven't signed up yet," Dorea commented, flattening out her already pristine healer robes.

She had acquired a position as a trainee at St Mungo's, and each morning, the same proud grin formed on her brother's lips.

"I thought about it," he replied honestly, "and as much as I despise what father, Perseus, and Cass have done, Grindelwald is not an enemy of mine yet."

Dorea hummed disapprovingly at the mention of the wayward Blacks, her lips pursing in irritation.

"Well, I am pleased to hear it," she declared. "I won't have you running off to do something stupid."

Arcturus snorted amusedly.

"I am no fool," he returned evenly. "My job is to keep you safe, not risk my life when there is no need to."

Dorea nodded but eyed his suspiciously.

"Make sure you remember that," she suggested, her tone carrying a hint of warning. "Now, how do I look?"

"Considering you are going to spend your day tending to bleeding wounds, getting covered in sick, and Merlin-knows-what else, as beautiful as ever," Arcturus answered with a smile.

Dorea raised an eyebrow at him.

"I will be home at six," she informed him. "Do stay out of trouble, Archie."

With a kiss on the cheek, she left, and Arcturus shook his head.

Everything he did was for her and for the woman he one day hoped to call his fiancé, and though he had decided against joining the conflict for the time being, that didn't mean he wouldn't if it became necessary.

Not that Dorea needed to know that, not until Arcturus could no longer keep it from her.

(Break)

Federov hadn't understood why Harry had chosen to come here, and though it had been many years since he'd attended a muggle school, he vividly remembered that it was the invasion of Poland that was the catalyst for the fighting to begin on the continent.

He couldn't be certain if what Grindelwald may or may not have done was a factor, but he would be remiss in his duties if he did not investigate the possibility that the dark wizard was or would soon involve himself here.

The mood in Warsaw certainly suggested the Polish expected something to happen. At every turn in every street, soldiers could be seen fortifying strategic positions, almost as though the German invasion was imminent.

But it wasn't the Germans they need concern themselves with. If Hitler was showing an interest in the country, it would be Grindelwald that would arrive here first, something the magical population were evidently in fear of.

Similarly to London, the magical portion of the city was accessible via a pub a short walk from the main shopping district, the mood here even more sombre than that of the muggles.

Already, businesses had closed down, though the streets were full of concerned magical folk, demanding answers as to what their government would do to prevent what had happened in Bulgaria, and the neighbouring Czechoslovakia.

No answers were forthcoming, and the aurors garbed in red robes lined the pathways, they too no less concerned than any other man or woman in the capitol.

For Harry, he could only look on helplessly, deeply aware that there was little he could do to assuage their concerns.

If Grindelwald was coming, he would do so soon before the ICW could mobilise their forces, something that would take time, something the people here did not have.

If what Sato had revealed to the ICW was true, Poland had little chance of repelling the army that would come, but so long as Harry lived and breathed, they would not be alone.

He may only be one man, but he would fight with them, and do all he could to hold off any attempted invasion.

What good it would do, he knew not.

Federov believed that Grindelwald wouldn't bother with the Polish, that he would now set his eyes on a more significant target.

Harry didn't.

It made more sense that he would attempt a much quicker coup, one that would only involve crossing a single border.

As much as the Dark Lord may want to exert himself over a more prominent territory, he wouldn't risk losing too much of his forces to do so. No, Harry had a gut feeling that he was in the right place, something that only grew stronger as he spotted a familiar face in the crowd of worried Pols.

"Sneaky bastard," he muttered.

The man he saw would not stand out in normal circumstances, and may even be a native here, but Harry had learned to remember faces, and this was one he had seen whilst he had been watching Hans Gaulitier so many months ago now.

He had been one of those accompanying the enormous German, a lackey at best. Even so, Harry was not going to let this opportunity pass him by.

The man was here for a reason, and as far as Harry was concerned, there was only one thing that could be.

For a while, he kept his distance, watching his target and scanning the area to ensure there were no others he remembered lurking around Gaulitier.

Satisfied that there wasn't, he waited until the gathered crowd began to disperse, none the wiser to what the plan of their government was and entered a pub he spotted the man slink into.

"Slivovitz," he requested, placing a few coins on the bar when the barman approached.

With a nod, a tumbler of the plum concoction was placed in front of him.

Taking a sip, he fought the urge to grimace, the spirit no more palatable than any other straight alcohol he had sampled. Nonetheless, he drained it and once more followed his target as he headed towards the restroom.

When inside, he wasted no time.

The man was relieving himself at the urinal when Harry seized him by the back of the neck and smashed his face into the tiled wall.

Disorientated, he was relieved of his wand before he could consider drawing it, the grip shifting until Harry's hand was squeezing his throat.

"Wait, you've got the wrong man! I don't know who you are," he wheezed in his native tongue.

"You know who I am," Harry countered, hissing gently, and producing a black serpent from within his spare sleeve.

The man's eyes widened, and he began to tremble as the realisation at who had accosted him set in.

"What are you doing here?" Harry asked.

"I live here," the man replied in broken English.

Harry nodded before slamming the back of his head into the wall.

"Do not lie to me," he warned. "I saw you with Gaulitier. You're one of his men. Now, I will ask you once more. What are you doing here?"

The man shook his head.

"H-he'll kill me."

"Do you think that I won't?"

The Pole swallowed deeply, not doubting the threat made.

"I was sent here to gather information. Grindelwald wants to invade as soon as possible but won't until he is certain of a few things."

He was telling the truth, but Harry was not satisfied.

"Such as?"

"He wishes t-to know the security m-measures here, any weaknesses he c-can exploit," the man stammered. "He wants t-to take over without r-resistance."

Harry chuckled darkly.

"Well, that won't be happening," he declared. "I suppose the only thing left is to decide what I will do with you."

"Please," the man begged. "I won't tell him I saw you."

Harry snorted disbelievingly.

The Pole would sell him out quicker than he did his master.

"Now, the only options I have is to kill you, or take you with me."

The man's eyes bulged fearfully.

"I'll go to prison, whatever you want. Please, don't kill me."

The man was a coward, as pathetic as many others Harry had come across over the years, but not worth tarnishing himself for.

"You'll be coming with me," he decided, "but don't expect your time with the Hit-Wizards to be pleasant. You'd best be prepared to talk because they will do whatever they deem necessary to get whatever information you have. I suggest that you do not lie."

"I won't, I'll…"

His words were cut off as he slumped in Harry's arm, the stunning spell colliding with his chest.

"Idiot," Harry muttered, withdrawing his portkey.

He needed to hand the man to Federov so he could conduct an in-depth investigation as to what Grindelwald's intentions may be, and with what he suspected all but confirmed, Harry would be returning shortly.

Grindelwald may be eager to subjugate the Polish before moving on to bigger targets, but Harry wouldn't make it so easy for him.

(Break)

"I do hope that you bring me good news, Weber," Gellert greeted the German.

"I do," Weber confirmed. "Poland is ripe for the picking. The government is in disarray, and they have no plan for defence. It is almost as though they are waiting for your arrival."

"No defence?"

"Nothing of significance," Weber said dismissively. "Their aurors cannot hope to hold out against whatever force you send. Take the capitol and the rest will collapse like a house of cards."

Gellert nodded thoughtfully.

He had asked for swift plans to be made, and his followers had seen to it with efficiency.

"Very well," he decided. "Perseus, you will take a thousand men and secure Warsaw. I want it done quickly and without thought to how much blood is spilled. It is time for a message to be sent to those that would oppose us."

"Of course," the young Black agreed.

"I will secure the borders to the north and to the east. I do not think the Russians will involve themselves, but it is best to be prepared."

"A wise move," Weber agreed. "The Germans too will not lift a finger."

"Then there should be no problems," Gellert declared. "I want you ready to leave in forty-eight hours, Perseus. I want the men fed and rested. Once Poland is taken, we can look at what provisions are available there. Well, what are you waiting for? Your army will not prepare itself."

Perseus hurried from the room and Gellert turned his attention back to the leader of his spy network.

"I want him watched, Weber," he instructed. "If anything goes wrong, you are to inform me immediately. Perseus is keen, and I do not question his loyalty, but he lacks experience in these matters."

"I will monitor his progress personally," Weber assured him.

"Good," Gellert replied. "Unless there was anything else?"

"Nothing pressing," Weber assured him. "I wish you luck, Mr Grindelwald."

Gellert shook his head as the odd man followed in Perseus' footsteps.

He didn't need luck, not when he had more to fight for than anyone else, not when those across the globe would understand the lengths he was willing to go to see his plans come to fruition.

(Break)

"You asked to see me, sir?" Gabriel Moody asked as he entered the office of the Head of the Department of International Magical cooperation having received a memo summoning here.

"I did," Alden Diggory replied, gesturing for him to take a seat.

Gabriel did so, unable to miss the look of unease Diggory wore.

"I received this a short while ago," Aldon explained handing Gabriel a small slip of parchment.

With a frown, he read the short missive.

Invasion of Poland imminent. Send what help you can.

Ivan Federov

Head of the Department of Justice for the International Confederation of Warlocks.

"I have spoken to Mr Federov," Diggory explained. "He has assured me that France, India, and the Australians are mobilising their own forces as we speak. As yours is the most able and ready, I need you to take your team there. You are to coordinate with the others when you arrive in Warsaw. You will be met at the Ministry by the leader of each force. Along with your twenty men, you should have around one hundred in all."

"Only one hundred?"

Diggory nodded grimly.

"Listen Moody, this is little more than a token force until our men are trained enough to really fight. Federov is not expecting success from this, but we must be seen to be acting against him. We cannot allow him to walk into whichever country he wishes to without resistance. My instructions to you are to put on a show, make it look as though we are doing what we can to fend him off for the time being, and then get the hell out of there."

"Just leave the people to whatever will happen to them?" Moody asked disgustedly.

Diggory offered him a sympathetic smile.

"This is war, Moody," he said sadly. "We have to pick our moments, pick the fights that we can win."

Gabriel did not like what he was being asked to do but being sent was unavoidable.

Diggory may have made it sound like a request, but it was an order.

"Is that all, sir?"

Diggory nodded and Gabriel took his leave of the office, his irritation only growing.

In his heart of hearts, he knew that he could not abandon the people that needed him. That was not how he was raised, and that was not what he would do.

His orders may be to leave when the going got rough, but Gabriel had never fled a fight in his life, and he would not begin doing so now.