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Round 3
February 1945
Over the Pacific Ocean
As the sun rose over the boundless expanse of the Pacific to the east, Lieutenant Franck D. McClintock, Carrier Squadron VF(N)-53 aboard USS Saratoga, flew his F-6F-5N Hellcat night fighter in a high lazy circle above the island of Iwo Jima. Off to the south, he could just see the wakes of countless Navy ships steaming his way, the lead vessels carrying the Marines who would come ashore in a few hours. In the sky, the first wave of planes from TF58 were taking off, heading in to give the Japs one final pounding from above.
Just now flashes across the sea signaled that the battlewagons were opening up as well. Below him, countless explosions appeared all across the island. Surely nothing could survive that, he thought, then chided himself for being overoptimistic. Time and time again those sneaky Nips have proved they're harder to kill than a Texas rattlesnake.
No, this was just the start of a heavyweight bout. His radio then chirped: 'Batcave to NAP, status report by squadron.'
McClintock waited as his fellow squadron mates reported in. Once Dodger finished, he cleared his throat: 'Batcave, this is Nighthawk. Negative sign of Jap bogies. Estimate fuel status five minutes to Bingo. Visual contact made with inbound elements of Detachment, will maneuver—what in the holy hell?!'
'Nighthawk, did not copy last, repeat last transmission,' the CAG back aboard Saratoga said. 'Nighthawk, respond!'
But all thought of military discipline had vanished from Franck's mind, as he continued to stare opened-mouthed at the impossible: heading towards him—no, now flying aside him—were several (5? 12?) people. Only they weren't in airplanes; they were…
…Try as he might, his mouth couldn't form the words to speak: On a flying carpet? Brooms?! It was an odd mixture of people—men and women, some young, some old; some Oriental and some white? And they were all dressed funny…
'—Nighthawk, repeat, this is Batcave. Respond!' One of the strangers—a Jap—waved at him, smiling.
That helped McClintock snap out of it. Excitedly he babbled: 'Jumpin' Jeosophat, you're not going to believe what I just saw Commander Travis—er, Batcave!—there are peop—'
—The white guy next to the Jap waved his hand at him. All of a sudden a warm fuzzy feeling filled McClintock. Dully he stared ahead—the people continued flying towards Iwo Jima, but that didn't seem all that important anymore.
His gaze transfixed on the flying people, McClintock nodded as understanding came. In a perfectly calm monotone he said: 'Apologies, Batcave, I just saw a flock of sea eagles flying by. Good omen for today. Nighthawk returning to nest, out.' Pulling back on the throttle, McClintock arced his plane into a graceful turn and headed north back to his flattop.
'Really, Yamada-san?' Dumbledore asked crossly as he finished casting Obliviate, watching the Muggle plane fly away until it vanished into the brightening blue of the dawn sky.
'I would have thought you of all wizards would appreciate a moment of levity to ease tension before a serious task,' replied Yamada Noburu, a very-young Investigator of the Japanese Bumonnoki—their equivalent to the Ministry of Magic. Once more he recast the Disillusionment charm; they were now invisible again.
Around him, several of the other nine witches and wizards of the team nodded in agreement. 'There will be time enough for celebration after we achieve our goal,' Dumbledore said sourly, shifting uncomfortably on his broom. 'Am I right?' He cast an acerbic look at his colleagues from the Ministry riding beside him on an enchanted Persian rug.
Juliette Willamette stifled a smile. 'Sorry, Albus, you are, of course, correct,' she said. Besides her, Artemius Crouch merely smiled and shook his head.
Sighing, Dumbledore turned his attention below. They were now rapidly approaching Iwo Jima. The island was covered with smoke from innumerable rounds of gunfire from the American ships. Other craft had beached themselves on the island and thousands of Nomaj soldiers poured onto the black sands. The Japanese guns were now beginning to fire back. The beaches began to run red.
'Such a slaughter,' Etienne Dumont said quietly. 'And yet we can do nothing—for either side.'
'Put aside your concerns for the Muggles,' Dumbledore said tightly. 'It will soon be time.'
'Do you really think Grindelwald's down there?' Crouch asked gruffly.
'No. But that's alright, as long as Daimyo Azon is.' And if he isn't, I go back to Hogwarts and teach first-year Charms for the rest of my life. Since his narrow escape in Ukraine, Grindelwald had raised his war against the wizarding world to new heights, alternating between leading devastating attacks against wizarding governments everywhere, and horrific atrocities against Muggles worldwide. In scrambling to suppress Grindelwald's actions, the ICW was spread too thin, allowing Grindelwald and his followers to gain resources and, most worryingly, more converts to his cause.
Desperate for help in stopping him, the Ministry had begged Dumbledore to become more actively involved. After Ukraine he had refused, citing a need to defend Hogwarts—a very convincing lie. But after months of ever mounting disaster, the magnitude of his cowardice was finally too much to bear even for himself. You owe it to everyone—from Ariana to Credence to McAlister—to stop him or die trying.
Having finally worked up the courage to do so, Dumbledore had approached these select ten witches and wizards in absolute secrecy, knowing he could trust them above all others. After months of preparation, today was the first step in his master plan to stop the Golden Wizard.
Dumbledore took out a pocket watch and waited until: 10 o'clock in the morning local time. From another pocket he took out a tiny cage, opened the door, and allowed the pixie inside to fly away.
'It begins?' Yamada asked, watching the pixie head towards the ships offshore.
'It begins. Everyone, your attention please.' Immediately their group came to a stop, all of them sitting on brooms and carpets in a semicircle in front of him. 'Everyone knows what they need to do, so I will not insult your intelligence by repeating it. But I must reiterate the following: Azon must be captured alive.' Dumbledore paused for emphasis. 'Even at the cost of your own life, if need be.'
None of the others liked that, but not because the thought of dying dissuaded them. 'I still don't understand why,' Zunza the great Kenyan Inquisitor rumbled. 'Azon is Grindelwald's right-hand man. As long as he's free the wizarding community here in Japan will never be safe. Killing him is the only way to ensure he is no longer a threat.'
Dumbledore checked his hourglass: no response yet. Sighing, he replied: 'Killing him is the one way to ensure he becomes a martyr, and turn too many Japanese wizards against us. Of necessity, the ICW must fight this war against Grindelwald's movement with one wandarm bound behind our backs. Yes, it would be easier to kill them, but it would not be right.'
'The Muggles have a saying, 'Might makes right',' Crouch growled. 'Sounds right to me.'
'But it isn't—at least, not here. Grindelwald cannot fight wizardkind by himself.' Dumbledore felt no compunction in lying on that score—for the greater good? 'As we remove his key supporters, his links to the disaffected amongst us, we weaken Grindelwald without weakening ourselves, and force him to confront us instead of running amok amongst the Muggles. I promise you, when this is over, he will come to us, and then we will have him.' His colleagues began nodding; it was clear he had convinced them (or at least reassured them). They began to prepare themselves for the fight ahead.
Yamada floated up next to him. In a low voice he said: 'Now will you tell me how you're going to not only bring down his enchanted screens, but disable the Worldway Azon has surely has set up, before he can escape?'
Dumbledore smiled. 'Not just yet. You have to trust me.'
Yamada fidgeted. 'I… do trust you.' He almost said 'don't'. 'But the fact that the Magicless are fighting all over Azon's hideout, won't that make him flee?'
Dumbledore bit his lip with poorly-hidden disgust. 'On the contrary. Grindelwald's closest followers—like Grindelwald himself—are thrilled by Muggle-on-Muggle violence; watching it is a sick, perverted pleasure of theirs.' I know this from personal experience. 'I assure you, if Azon is down there, right now he and all his followers are enjoying the slaughter up-close, observing it as attentively as we watched the 314th Quidditch World Cup.' The frown became even deeper. 'I rather think they'll even have their guard down. We must not waste this opportunity.'
Yamada nodded reluctantly. 'Very well, Dumbledore-san. Once we land, we can stop anyone from Disapparating, as long as you can get us through the door.'
Dumbledore patted him on the shoulder and smiled. 'I won't let you down.' Let's just hope Miss Goldstein doesn't either… 'Is everybody ready?'
They all nodded. 'Very well, let us begin…now!' All of them leaped from their carpets and brooms, plummeting to the ground below.
Aboard USS Wisconsin
Every minute or so, the entire ship shuddered slightly as the main batteries fired, hurling their shells twenty miles away. It was a nontrivial distraction for Commander Andrew Jamis as he tried to treat his patient.
'I'm telling you, it's nothing but indigestion,' growled Brigade-General Henry Paterson, pushing him away as he sat on the end of a hospital bed. 'Now let me go, dammit, my Marines out there are taking a helluva pounding!'
'General, I'm almost certain it's appendicitis, and if we don't remove it it could be fatal.'
'Doc, if you operate on me I'll be sidelined for a week, and by then the fighting will be over—' Suddenly the general let out a loud groan and clutched at his sides. 'Goddamnit!' His head jerked up. 'Well, don't just stand there! Do something!'
'Of course. Nurse!'
'Yes, Doctor?'
'Get me a hypo with morphine, and tell the Surgery team to prep for emergency surgery.'
'Right away.'
Paterson raised his head, squinting. 'Tell me I'm hallucinating. But what the hell is a broad doing aboard a battleship in an active warzone?'
'It's a long story.' Commander Jamis chuckled as the nurse came back with a hypo. Appreciatively he gave her another lookover: unusually tall, taller than he was, Ensign Goldstein was smartly dressed in bleach-white threads, wearing a cap with a red cross atop her dark black hair. 'Thank you,' he said as Goldstein handed him the needle. 'Now lie back, General, this won't hurt too much.'
Lying back, Paterson grunted as the needle entered his abdomen. 'Next time, Doc, try to keep your slobber to yourself.' He turned to Goldstein. 'How the hell did you end up on the Wisconsin?'
In a plain voice she said: 'The Western Comfort was hit by kamikazes off Luzon, General. The Navy had to scramble to reassign medical personnel from here to Pearl Harbor. I was temporarily reassigned here—'
'—To make a long story short, Nurse Goldstein was forced to remain aboard after half our staff got food poisoning, somehow. By the time they recovered, we were halfway to Iwo Jima. Not that we don't mind your company, right Nurse?' He smiled as he slapped her in the behind.
Through gritted teeth Goldstein said: 'Of course not, Commander.'
Suddenly Paterson yelled out loud. 'Damnit, it hurts more than ever!'
Jamis' mouth hung open. 'What? I don't understand, you shouldn't be able to feel a thing.' He hunched over the General, probing. Suddenly he was agitated. 'Goldstein, did you get the right hypo? I swear, why the Navy ever let you broads—'
—swinging around to confront her, he saw a long stick of wood pointed right between his eyes. 'I think you need to operate on the General right now, don't you agree Commander Jamis?'
'I need to operate on the General right now,' Jamis repeated dully.
'And you don't need my services anymore, so I am now relieved of duty.'
'Yes, you're relieved of duty Nurse Goldstein.'
'Thank you, Commander,' she said acidly. Pocketing her wand, Goldstein turned and left.
Now alone, Tina shook her head. 'Nomajs. Can't live with them. Can't kill them.' Another day, and I would have Transfigured Jamis into a frog. Stepping outside, Goldstein waited until the corridors were empty, then Apparated to the surface.
Immediately she was struck by the sting of saltwater on her face, and the acrid smell of smoke. A hundred feet away, the middle set of enormous guns let loose a tremendous blast; for a Nomaj the blast would have been lethal, but Muffliato reduced the noise and blast to a trickle. Looking around, no sailors were immediately around her. She raised her wand and waited. Come on Dumbledore, don't keep me waiting.
Long seconds later, there was a buzzing noise nearby; the pixie was hovering beside her wand. She took out a small cage and let the pixie in, tucking her away for safety. Taking a deep breath, she re-Apparated towards the middle gun turret.
Now she was deep inside the ship, below the turret. Immediately she cast a Disillusionment Charm to conceal herself. All around her were the gigantic… shells… that the ship fired. Normally Goldstein had little interest in Nomaj technology, but today she was intensely interested in the giant conical shapes that were taller than she was. She was in a room filled with these shells, but she was looking for three in particular. Holding out her wand, she paced around the room, until…
…There! The three shells were shunted off at the far end. On each of them was painted with red paint: 'Defective – Do Not Use'. But they also had another message written on them with magical invisible Ink:
When you get my signal, wait until the turret has fired, then move the shells to the tubes in the center directly under the turrets. The ship's loading system will move the shells up to be loaded into the guns. If you cannot move these shells into position before they are loaded, wait until the ship fires then try again.
Once the shells are all loaded, cast a Freeze Jinx on the guns—that will prevent the ship from firing. Go topside, then use my SeekerScope to look for my signal as to where to fire. When you see a red dot in the Scope, perform an Alignment charm.
Finally, re-Apparate inside the turret, un-Freeze the guns, and command the crew to fire. You must fire within 60 seconds of casting the Alignment charm. If you cannot, freeze the guns and start over. Take your time—it must be done perfectly the first time!
Good luck,
Albus
Sweating, Goldstein took out her wand. Waiting, there was then one, two, three blasts—the guns were empty! Immediately she cast Leviosa on the shells. Straining, the three shells lifted up and slowly floated towards the loading area in the middle of the room. They were all seated just as the gears all around her began to turn; the shells were lifted upwards! She cast the Freezing Jinx; immediately she could begin to hear the crewmen above her yelling with dismay that the gun was not working.
Goldstein Apparated to the surface again, and pulled out Dumbledore's SeekerScope. Pointing it towards the island, she saw nothing. Maxie Lewis, why did I ever think this mad plan of Albus would work? Gritting her teeth, she kept looking.
'Gah!' A shell exploded near Crouch, pelting him with dirt, fragments and pieces of human remains.
Before he could pull out his wand, Albus grabbed him. 'No magic, not yet!'
Crouch grimaced. 'If we die at the hands of the Muggles, I'll kill you myself!' Both Dumbledore, Crouch and the others were now all disguised as Marines, interspersed with the other Muggle soldiers. At the moment they were, along with the Muggles, burying themselves deep into the dark wet sand to find cover from incoming fire. Instead of advancing with the others, however, they were slowly advancing to the predetermined jump points. But they could not use magic to conceal themselves, as that would surely alert Azon, which meant there was a real possibility that some or all of them could be wounded or even killed by Muggle fire.
'It's a risk we have to take,' Dumbledore muttered to himself. For the greater good. Wincing, he tried to forget the phrase. They were at their jump point, a small set of hills barely a mile from the water. Dumbledore put a rifle grenade in his rifle, then pointed it to the sky and fired. Seconds later, it exploded, sending a puff of red smoke.
One of the Muggle soldiers crouched in the sand alongside looked at him in disbelief. 'Mac, what the hell are you doing?'
'Calling in air support,' Dumbledore replied. Before the Muggle could object, the whistle of incoming fire made them all duck down low. Raising his head slightly, pushing the heavy metal helmet atop his head, he could see more puffs of red smoke in the distance. Two, three, four, just one more…there! They were all in position—and all alive.
As the Muggle soldiers began firing back at their attackers, Dumbledore covertly removed his wand and pointed it towards the center of the island. He could not cast a spell like Revelio, but even in the midst of all the chaos and death around him, he was fiercely concentrating as he passively held his wand. Beside him, Crouch was concealing him from the sight of other nearby Muggle soldiers.
Not there, not there—there! He felt the barest twitch as he pointed in a particular direction. Most wizards would not have noticed it at all, but to Dumbledore it was as clear as the flashing sign over the Boar's Inn. He took out a purple egg from his pocket, pointed his wand at it, then flung it towards the spot he felt.
One of the Muggle soldiers nearby saw the egg fly through the air. 'Woah, that was a heck of a throw!' Three hundred feet ahead, it burst, sending an improbable amount of purple smoke skyward. Now or never…
Tina saw it: a thin purple line reaching up from the island to the sky above. A bright red dot appeared in the Seekerscope. Still looking through the Scope, she pointed her wand at the turret and cast the Alignment charm; very slowly the turret moved into position. She then re-Apparated inside the turret and—
—'What the hell?' Goldstein found herself surrounded by a dozen sailors, who all stared astonished at her.
Merlin's beard, how could you forget the Charm had worn off! Fortunately, they were all so stunned at seeing her (whether because she was a woman or because she appeared out of thin air Goldstein couldn't say) that she had time to Imperio the whole lot of them. But it took precious time—a clock in her head said she was almost too late. Immediately she unFroze the guns; they quickly started moving. As soon as the guns stopped moving, she Commanded the crew to fire.
'How much longer Albus?'
'Right about… now.' Off in the distance, he could hear a faint whistle, rapidly getting louder.
'Incoming!' The Muggle soldiers around him ducked and swore; from long experience they realized that one of the ships offshore was firing way too close where they were. Depending on what particular ship it was, they would either make it, or be blown to bits. A normal shell from a battleship would kill everyone of them. Fortunately, things were not normal…
—Instead of the normal deafening explosion, there was a loud thunderclap and a flash of blackness that was almost gone before they noticed. A second later, right before them, the sandy landscape was replaced by a large circular atrium with an ornate garden pool in the center. A dozen luxurious couches were arranged around the pool; on them lay eleven witches and wizards—including Azon himself, hardly wearing anything. He quickly rose from a recumbent position, his mouth falling open in astonishment.
To his side the other Aurors were pointing their wands at the crowd. With a wave of his wand Dumbledore restored the Concealment Charm; the cacophony of the Muggle battle instantly disappeared.
'Surrender, Azon-san,' Yamada said. 'It is over.'
Dumbledore did not hear his reply; faster than he ever saw someone move Azon moved in a blur. He tried to Stun him but missed. Curses crisscrossed the atrium; he saw wizards in front of him and behind him fall, but could not tell who it was.
'The Worldway—it's through that door!' At the far side was a rectangular entrance in the marble wall. Dumbledore Apparated in front of it, a split second before Azon did. They were so close to each other there was hardly any room to bring their wands to bear. Dropping his wand, Dumbledore grabbed and wrestled Azon to the ground. Inches away, he had a perfect view of his foe: handsome, lean and nearly as tall as Dumbledore was normally, his well-tanned skin was without blemish, and his jet-black hair of medium length. The half-robe wrapped around his waist fell away during the struggle, but neither of them noticed.
As he hoped, Azon had concentrated on trying to bring his wand to bear, which gave Dumbledore ample leeway to physically restrain his foe. Realizing this too late, Azon now dropped his wand in an attempt to free his left hand to strike at Dumbledore, but before he could do so Dumbledore swung with all his might and punched Azon across the jaw. Letting out a loud groan, Azon's muscles slackened; that allowed Dumbledore to finally get leverage and pin Azon down. He reached down and grabbed Azon's wand, pointing it right between his eyes.
Instantly Azon stopped resisting. That was enough to allow Dumbledore to get back to his feet. Pocketing Azon's wand, Dumbledore retrieved his and physically restrained Azon. As the danger was over, Dumbledore's body suddenly began to shake. Looking back, it was an insane gamble: during their struggle, had any of Azon's followers been unengaged they could have easily stunned or killed him. But his gamble had paid off: the five members of Azon's cabal still conscious were being restrained by the Aurors (with a heavy heart he saw that only eight were up and about. Zunza was lying on the ground utterly still; he could not see who else was down).
Artemius came up beside him. 'Congratulations, Albus. It worked to perfection.'
'What about Zunza?' he said heavily. Crouch crumpled and shook his head. 'Who else did we lose?'
'Dumont, but not here; Yamada said he was hurt by Muggle fire, he had to leave him behind.'
'Alright, have someone return to the island and find Dumont. Disable the Worldway, and tell the others to search the premises.' Crouch nodded and went through the door.
'Well done, Albus,' a quiet deadly voice whispered beneath him. 'How did you do it?' At his feet, Azon looked up at him, hands and legs bound by cords, murder in his eyes. Dumbledore noticed all the other captives had been Petrified, so they were almost as still and unmoving as poor Zunza. With a wave of his wand Azon's robes wrapped themselves back around his midriff, thus restoring his dignity to him.
Dumbledore sat down two feet in front of Azon. 'Where is Grindelwald?'
'Planning your destruction.' Azon was no longer looking murderous, but almost gleeful.
With a flash Dumbledore whipped out his wand and pointed it at Azon. 'Answer me!'
Azon's eyes went lax; 'I do not know,' he said with a slur. Disgustedly, Dumbledore lowered his wand.
Instantly Azon's eyes refocused, replaced with rage again. 'Using the Imperius Curse on your fellow wizards? Such blatant hypocrisy, Albus,' Azon sneered.
'The only wizard who died here today died at the hands of your associates,' Dumbledore said harshly. 'It is your hypocrisy—as well as Gellert's—which is leading to your defeat. Think of that when you face justice for your crimes.'
Azon's face became unreadable. 'Then avenge your dead, Albus. Kill me, if I deserve it so.'
Dumbledore shook his head. 'We are better than that.'
Azon's smile was chilling. 'Then be prepared to lose.' Dumbledore stared at him, but Azon said nothing.
Some hours later, as the bulk of the Muggle fighting outside had moved on to other parts of the island, they had completed their search of Azon's lair. The only thing more they could learn would be to go through the Worldway and see where it was connected to, but that would have been suicidal, even if it was still working. Dumbledore saw no reason to risk it, so he had it destroyed.
Even better, it turned out Dumont was still alive; he had been badly injured by a nearby explosion, and in fact left for dead by the Muggles, but fortunately magical healing was enough to stabilize him. Yamada flew him back to the Bumonnoki for further healing.
Mahoutokoro, Mina Jima
The next day, Dumbledore was sitting all by himself in the Common Assembly of Mahoutokoro. The entire campus of the famed Japanese school of magic was deserted, the school temporarily closed by the Bumonnoki due to the ongoing war between the Muggles in this part of the world. Yamada had insisted that any prisoners taken in the raid on Iwo Jima be brought here in secret. He had not explained why, but it was fairly obvious: he was afraid that there were secret followers of Grindelwald even in the Japanese Ministry of Magic.
Sipping tea, Dumbledore contemplated their next moves. Thorough interrogation of Azon and his followers had provided some useful information about the identities and locations of other followers of Grindelwald in Japan and other parts of Asia, but they were still no closer to learning the whereabouts of Gellert himself.
Dumbledore had expected nothing less. We'll only catch him when he makes a mistake, but he hasn't made too many until recently. As he had explained to Yamada, going after his top associates was the best way to balance undermining Grindelwald without further alienating the many wizards still sympathetic to his goals. By showing other wizards the full extent of the atrocities his followers have committed against wizards (not necessarily Muggles), we undermine support for him. Once the wizarding community turns away from Grindelwald, he is beaten.
Of course, this strategy had another component that was needed, but it was out of his—and any wizard's—hands. At least the discovery of the gruesome fate of Grindelwald's victims in Azon's chamber of torture horrors would continue to weaken support for the Golden Wizard.
The doors of the Assembly room opened, and Tina Goldstein walked in, still wearing stark white Muggle clothing. Her face was calm, but Dumbledore could sense she was hiding powerful emotional currents.
'Greetings Miss Goldstein,' he said politely. Immediately correcting himself: 'Or should I refer to you as Mrs—'
'—Tina will do,' she said quietly. 'I'm glad everything worked as planned.'
'Regrettably we suffered losses—Chidia Zunza is dead.' Tina nodded and lowered her eyes in silent tribute.
'May I see Azon for myself?'
Dumbledore raised an eyebrow. 'For what purpose?'
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'I want to ask some questions.'
Dumbledore pursed his lip. 'We've thoroughly interrogated them already. Unless you have additional Veritaserum—'
'—I just want to see if he can answer some questions for me.'
Something is wrong. But he could hardly deny a fellow Auror. 'Alright, follow me.' They made their way down to the catacomb levels, where Azon and the other seven survivors were being held. Tina's body language was disquieting: stiff and mechanical, as if she were exerting effort to move herself. But she said nothing, and Dumbledore did not press for conversation.
Inside Tina came directly in front of Azon, who was wrapped in cords and magically enveloped in a restraining field. 'Where is Grindelwald?' she asked flatly.
Azon, who had deliberately ignored them when they entered the room, did not answer. Tina asked again, and he still did not respond. To his surprise Tina whipped out her wand and screamed: 'Crucio!'
Azon shrieked in pain. Before Dumbledore could intervene she stopped and rushed him. Tina had lost all emotional control; a seething hatred assaulted Dumbledore's senses as he restrained her from trying to reach out and claw out Azon's eyes. 'Where is he? Where is he?' she screamed.
Immediately Azon gasped for air, then began laughing. As Dumbledore pulled her away, Azon taunted her: 'Whoever it was Grindelwald killed, it was for their own good! For everyone's good! And so shall it be for you!'
'Let go of me! I want to kill that bastard!'
'I'm afraid I can't let that happen—oof!' Tina had elbowed him in the throat, sending him staggering. She raced back towards Azon, but then Dumbledore lassoed her with his wand and pulled her away. He closed the doors and put a magical seal on them, then released Tina.
'Let me in there!' Tina yelled, but she did not point her wand at him.
Dumbledore lowered his wand. 'We need Azon alive, I don't need to remind you.'
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'I want to hurt to hurt him—'
'—it wasn't Azon who killed—'
'—I know Grindelwald loves Azon, I want him to suffer before he dies!'
Dumbledore sighed and closed his eyes. 'My dear Miss Goldstein, I know you don't truly feel that way.'
'Don't tell me how to feel, Albus.' She pointed at the door. 'Thanks to wizards like him, my sister's husband is dead! My niece and nephew will never know their father, because of them. And Queenie, oh Queenie—' Tina finally broke down and wept.
Dumbledore came closer but did not reach out to contact Tina. He stood by in silent sympathy, whatever good that would do. Not long after Tina collected herself. 'I'm sorry for striking you.'
'It's nothing, Miss Goldstein. I promise you Grindelwald and all his followers will receive justice for all the crimes they committed.'
Tina sniffed. 'But executing them for their crimes won't bring back Jacob or Credence or all the other victims. Executing them only makes us like them. That's what you were going to say, right?'
'It was. Because it's true.'
She looked long and hard at him. 'Would you say that if it was your family that died at Grindelwald's hands?'
'I shall share a confidence with you, Tina.' Dumbledore paused, considering how best to half-reveal the truth. 'Grindelwald is culpable to varying degrees for deep personal losses that I have suffered as well.'
'I'm sorry?'
'He did not directly kill them, but he was… at least partially responsible.'
A look of empathy came across Tina's face. 'I did not know. I'm very sorry.'
Dumbledore smiled. 'Thank you for your sympathy. Don't let your grief consume you, you have so much to live for.'
Tina made a noncommittal noise. 'You do understand, the next time I see Grindelwald I will kill him.'
'If we face him in battle, I would not try to stop you. But once the cursing stops, so must the killing. Wizards have executed their own for crimes in the past, and it did us no credit. We are better than that; we must be better than that.'
Tina visibly relaxed. With a small smile she said. 'Alright, back to Macusa for me. If Grindelwald is hiding in North America, we'll find him.'
'I hope you do. Good luck and good hunting.'
'Bye Albus.' As Tina walked out of the catacombs, Dumbledore did his best to try and see things from Tina's perspective, on the off chance that she might be right. Try as he could, he could not bring himself to share the same bloodlust that she had. Intellectually of course he could, but not deep down. But is that because you really believe what you say you do?
Or because you're not really sure if Arianna died by his hand?
Or because of what you still wish Gellert could be?
Dumbledore had no definitive answer for his question.
Round 4
August 1945
London—The Ministry of Magic
'Good evening, Artemius. You seem to be in above-average spirits.'
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'Ha! Always the gift of understatement, Albus.' It was early evening in London, and most of the workers of the Ministry of Magic had left. But the select groups of Aurors around the world still mopping up the remnants of Grindelwald's movement never rested, and never would until the danger was over.
Here in the Auror Department, Dumbledore always came after classes at Hogwarts had ended to check up on progress reports. 'Would it have anything to do with Dietrich's apprehension in Baaden?'
Crouch gaped. 'How the Devil did you hear about that?'
Dumbledore smiled. 'I have my sources.'
Artemius shrugged. 'Well you're right, as usual. His last remaining cohorts got tired of hiding, they cut a deal and were willing to sell him out to do so.'
'Nothing harder than being the last supporters of a lost cause.'
'Just like you said, once he started losing support, it just snowballed.'
'True, but it was more than that.' Artemius looked at him quizzically. 'No one believes me when I tell them this, but I firmly am of the opinion that once the Muggles stopped fighting each other, Grindelwald's days were numbered.'
Crouch scratched his head. 'Count me among the nonbelievers. What did the Muggle conflicts have to do with ours?'
'Nothing—and everything. Yes, Muggles fought each other for different reasons than we did. But this war was so vast, so all-consuming, the madness affected the wizarding community, at least partially. Whole populations killed and displaced, many of them blood relatives of wizards. You know how much the International Statute for Secrecy was smashed during the fighting, how many wizards got involved in cycles of revenge and counter-revenge. Grindelwald understood this, stoked our fears through his own heinous atrocities and deceptions. He would not have gained such support if many wizards themselves were not so fearful and vengeful. Now that the killings among the Muggles have ceased, the air to the fire in the wizarding community has been cut off. Hopefully we shall smother it shortly.'
Crouch had listened to what Dumbledore said and nodded absent-mindedly; he took it as a sign Artemius either did not fully agree or even did not fully understand what he said. No matter. 'Perhaps. Who knows. But it is true, Grindelwald's support has dropped off considerably.'
'He's backed into a corner, which means he's still very dangerous,' Dumbledore cautioned.
'No one knows how many supporters are still with him, but that number must be very small.'
'Numbers are not everything. Unless and until we bring him down, he is a danger.'
Crouch laughed. 'Oh the irony!'
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'I don't understand.'
'You were pretty much the last wizard on this side of the Atlantic to think Grindelwald was a threat while he was ascending, and now you're almost the last wizard to think he's still a danger as he descends!'
Reluctantly Dumbledore conceded. 'You have a point. But having been wrong before, I do not want to be wrong now. We haven't beaten him yet.'
'We will. As soon as he shows himself, we'll bring him down.'
'I agree. So the next thing to do is—'
—at that moment a loud alarm began echoing throughout the largely-empty halls of the Ministry of Magic, a screaming banshee cry that signified nothing less than a confirmed Grindelwald sighting
'To Operations!' They both hurriedly made their way to the special floor at the 13th level below the main level of the MoM. When they got there there were over twenty witches and wizards, and the numbers were increasing rapidly. In the center of the room was a large magical flame, whose flickers resolved into the form of Shimura Daiichi, the First Minister of the Bumonnoki.
'—to all Ministries of Magic around the world, the Japanese Ministry of Magic is under assault by Grindelwald personally and his forces. We believe they are seeking to free Azon and his associates. Secret agents within the Bumonnoki have been undermining our defenses from within, while Grindelwald assaults us with wizards, dragons and giants! We require any and all reinforcements. The Worldway to the Department of Magic is open, but I don't know how much longer we can maintain the portal!' Abruptly the flames went out.
Collin Andsersworth, the current Minister of Magic, looked deeply shaken. But he quickly gathered himself: 'To the Auror Department, send as many wizards and witches as you feel you can without compromising our safety. This is the decisive battle against Grindelwald, perhaps our best chance to bring him down! May Merlin protect you all.'
The Minister dismissed the crowd; only the Aurors remained. Crouch looked around: 'Do I have volunteers?'
Dumbledore was the first to get up. 'Thank you, Albus. I—what are you doing?'
'No time to waste. We have to go now.'
'Wait, we need to plan a strategy, we can't just—'
'—by the time we do so the battle might be lost. We plan when we get to Japan. Tally-ho!' Albus made his way past the astonished crowd of Aurors and hurled himself into the giant stone triangle that formed the British end of the Worldway portal system that connected all the Ministries of Magic.
He disappeared through.
Coming next: the epic duel between Dumbledore and Grindelwald!
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