The Unbeatable Foe

The Unbeatable Foe

Chapter 1

The summer breeze stirring the leaves of the trees and playing with the strands of Albus's hair seemed to caress him, the sound of insects humming and the occasional hoot of an owl seemed a music to which he could dance all night, and the joy he felt at getting away from home and the nagging of Aberforth seemed to give him wings. He hastened through the woods, not wanting to make his friend wait any longer, hopping over fallen branches just for the glorious feeling of it, as he had done in his carefree childhood, before-

Albus gave a wild shake of his head. He had heard and thought enough about Ariana and her needs, today. Tomorrow would be soon enough to immerse himself in his family's problems again. Tonight was for him.

Through the last trees, Albus saw a figure leaning casually against the large rock that stood at the far end of the clearing. Even in the cold light of the moon, his golden hair seemed to catch fire as he turned his head, apparently warned of Albus's approach by a stray sound. Albus froze for a moment, drinking in the scene. The sudden alert tension, the untamed locks of hair bouncing as he turned, the merriment that flitted across his handsome face - he could be a woodland creature out of myth.

"Sorry I'm late," Albus offered as he stepped out of the trees.

"You are worth the wait," Gellert replied. Even his accent was lovely; it spoke of faraway places Albus had only dreamed of seeing, and had a crispness that suited his personality. "I received your note, last night," Gellert continued. "Sheer genius."

Abruptly he bounded up onto the rock and struck a dramatic pose.

"For the Greater Good!" he declaimed in a sonorous voice, arm raised.

He'd liked the idea, then, Albus thought with a glow of pleasure.

"I'm glad you liked it. All day I was wondering if I had expressed it well, and waited impatiently to hear your thoughts," Albus said, walking up to his friend.

Gellert crouched down and extended his hand to Albus, who grasped it with alacrity. His friend leapt lightly down onto the grass beside him.

"Thank you," he said with a wink, as he looked up at Albus.

As always, when face-to-face with Gellert, Albus felt abruptly awkward. He loomed over his friend like an overgrown bag of bones. Gellert, in contrast, was perfectly proportioned. Height just above average, chest and shoulders that had already achieved the fullness of manhood, tapering to a narrow waist and hips...Albus flushed, hoping it was not so apparent in the moonlight...

...They had been sitting side by side, their backs against the mossy stone, heads together, talking animatedly of their plans. The lateness of the hour was beginning to take its toll, and a companionable silence settled on them. Gellert slid his head down onto Albus' chest and gave a contented sigh, looking up at the stars. After a moment, Albus slid his arm around Gellert's waist, his stomach fluttering nervously. When Gellert responded by wriggling closer, he exhaled slowly, to hide his nerves. Tentatively, he ran the fingers of his other hand through Gellert's hair. Gellert twisted to face Albus, his expression oddly serious, and their eyes met. For a moment, Albus teetered between longing and fear, before his fingers twisted themselves tightly into Gellert's curls to pull him closer, and he felt his friend's arms wrap themselves tightly about his neck as their lips found each other....

...The morning sun streamed through the kitchen window, casting a golden light on the timeworn surface of the table. Ariana was clearing away the breakfast dishes, giggling at something Aberforth had just said, as Albus and Gellert walked in through the door.

Desperately Albus fought to make himself stop, make himself leave, to wake up, as Aberforth rounded on him and started to berate him for his neglect of Ariana. Gellert leapt heatedly to his defense, then Aberforth was writhing in pain on the floor, Albus drew his wand and stopped Gellert, and the duel started. As Albus watched with the helplessness of one trapped in a nightmare, he saw himself raise his wand to cast the fateful curse, when a loud knock on the door, and a cry of "Frühstück!" jarred him from sleep.

Still trapped in the vividness of his nightmare, Albus at first looked around wildly, not recognizing his surroundings. His tear-filled eyes noted the rumpled bedding on the floor below, where he must have thrown it off in a final, desperate attempt to escape the dream. The ceiling above him showed cracks in the white plaster between the heavy wooden beams, dark with age. An inn, he was at an inn, of course, and the chambermaid had been sent to awaken him for breakfast as he had requested. He must be grateful to her, that she had come in time to spare him the final, unbearable portion of the scene.

Just before leaving Hogwarts, he had forced himself to watch what he had done, once. Albus would have preferred to live the rest of his life without knowing, yet knew better than to come to this place, for this purpose, unprepared. His enemy was nearly his match in skill and inborn magical talent, and enjoyed the advantage of a wand of legendary power. Albus also knew now, to his never-ending shame and regret, that his enemy would not scruple to strike at weakness, and his own ignorance of the truth would have made him vulnerable. Well, now he knew the truth, however bitter, but having seen it once was more than enough for a lifetime.

Albus reached under the pillow for his wand and with it filled the large porcelain bowl on the washstand with water. Rising, he performed his ablutions, combed his graying auburn hair, and pulled it back into a queue. Next, he put on his half-moon glasses and gave himself a critical look. As his wand touched his face, his nose shrank and straightened, the shape of his cheekbones altered itself subtly, and the wrinkles on his face deepened. A second spell, and his auburn hair and beard, just a moment before only starting to show strands of white, were now a uniform steely grey.

Thus disguised, he dressed himself meticulously. For the last time looked over the letter from the woman he was going downstairs to meet. She had been, until recently, an entirely unknown quantity to him: the wife of a Resistance leader with whom Albus had occasionally communicated. Her husband's recent arrest in connection to a failed attempt on the life of Grindelwald had pushed her into a leadership role. Among her first actions had been a request for his assistance, in terms he had found he could not refuse.

Dear Professor Dumbledore,

As a long-time admirer of your work in Alchemy and Transfiguration, I have been heartened to read in our underground press of your speeches in the Wizengamot, in which you bring to the attention of British witches and wizards the depredations Gellert Grindelwald has inflicted on the Continent. For this, I and like-minded witches and wizards living under the tyrant's heel are sincerely grateful.

The truth is, though, that our situation is desperate, and the evil greater than even you imagine. It is this that drives me to beseech your aid. As a mother, I feel deeply that the children of a society are its greatest treasure, and how a society treats them, the true measure of its heart. I write in the hope that you, the greatest wizard of our generation, share this view, since you have chosen the noble calling of teacher when every career was open to you.

My messenger brings proofs of a new atrocity perpetrated by Grindelwald's regime. His use of torture and murder to suppress dissent and impose his political will are old news to you, I realize. Now, young children, the magically talented children of Muggles, are being sought out and imprisoned at Nurmengard.

The only way to end this is to end the regime. I pray that you will consent to help us.

Yours sincerely,

Maria Herrmann

Well, he would meet the writer of the letter shortly, so with a flick of his wand, Albus Vanished it. The he carefully stuck the pin enclosed with the letter into his cravat, and headed downstairs to the dining room.

He was only halfway through his cup of coffee, still waiting for the steaming porridge in his bowl to cool, when a buxom, dark-haired witch of average height seated herself across from him.

After a perfunctory greeting in German, which Albus returned politely, she eyed his cup with distaste and commented, wrinkling her nose, "I cannot imagine how people stand the coffee served at this establishment. It always had the consistency of mud, and with all the Muggle rationing, it now also has the flavor!"

Recognizing the phrase the messenger had given him, Albus replied with the proper response.

"Madam, we English prefer to drink tea with breakfast. But, when in Rome..." he shrugged his shoulders.

"Ah, a foreign visitor!" she exclaimed, and proceeded to make small talk about the rigors of travel, as she ordered and consumed a sweet roll and hot chocolate. A very ordinary-seeming woman, to be the author of the impassioned plea for help he had just reread; though not without a certain dark humor, he reflected.

As she rose to leave, Dumbledore rose too and inclined his head courteously, making sure to knock over his recently refilled coffee cup in his haste. Cursing under his breath for verisimilitude, he drew his wand forth from his robes and cast a quick "Tergeo!" to wipe up the spill. He added a surreptitious flourish to his broad wand motion as he also cast a nonverbal charm that would allow him to follow her to her next destination even when she was lost to his sight.

After waiting a few minutes, Dumbledore got up to leave. He cast his traveling cloak about his shoulders to ward of the cold, damp air, and stepped outside into the Muggle town. He kept his hand on his wand inside his pocket, allowing it to guide him subtly in the footsteps of his quarry.

The streets were empty, except for the occasional patrol by young men, boys, really, in uniforms with red armbands adorned by the spidery black symbol favored by their mustached Muggle leader. His, to Dumbledore's eyes quaintly unmoving likeness plastered the wall of the buildings at regular intervals. The windows of houses were all dark, covered by heavy drapes to prevent the escape of betraying rays of light during nighttime air raids, a feature this town had in common with Muggle towns at home, Dumbledore reflected somberly. Only women, and a few men as old as Albus appeared to be, patronized the few shops that were open. This was one reason Albus's chosen disguise was that of an older man. He could Confund any young Muggle soldier who demanded his papers, of course, but the disguise would likely spare him the trouble.

His wand guided him to a walled house with a wrought-iron gate, on which there hung a sign, lettered in German, warning of an unexploded bomb. Looking about, Albus saw that several of the neighboring buildings had been reduced to rubble by the vagaries of the Muggle war, and the street appeared deserted. Disregarding the warning, for his quarry had entered, Dumbledore cast a spell that turned the gate into vapor for a moment as he stepped through, and then caused it to return to its original form, with himself on the other side. He hastened up the walk and into the house.

"You are Professor Dumbledore?" asked the woman with whom he had breakfasted, in heavily accented English.

"Indeed, Madam. And you, I presume, are Frau Herrmann?" he asked in German, as she nodded her head in affirmation.

"I wish to express my heartfelt thanks that you have come," she said, switching to her native tongue. "This is our fight, not yours, but the situation is desperate. The cancer of hatred in our society has flowered under his charismatic leadership, and as a result, we who resist him are too few to fight him openly. Secretly -" her voice broke.

So the rather prosaic breakfast companion and the writer of the letter were one. Her grief, anyway, was genuine, he judged.

"Madam, allow me to offer my deepest sympathy," Albus spoke into the heavy silence left as she covered her mouth with a handkerchief and fought to compose herself once more. No one knew whether her husband still lived; there has been no news after his disappearance into Nurmengard. "And my apologies, for the trouble that you were forced to take to bring me here. The information your messenger gave me - after I heard it, I could not but come."

"Nonetheless, our plans have little chance of success without you," she said firmly. "Please, have a seat," she said, indicating an armchair in the parlor. She seated herself on the matching couch.

"What is it that you need of me?" Albus asked as he sat down.

"We need you to help us with Grindelwald himself," she said simply. "Our best have tried and failed; he is a foe beyond our measure. His followers fight for him with fanatical conviction. If he fails, we believe they may lose heart, and we can strike in the confusion caused by his death and seize Nurmengard. That would be a great victory for us. In the past week we have secretly brought in fighters for this purpose."

"I agree in principle with this plan," Albus replied, "with one reservation. If I succeed in defeating him short of death, he is to be my captive. I do not want him killed."

Maria Herrmann's dark eyes flashed. "But you know what he has done!" she exclaimed indignantly.

"I do," he replied somberly. "I do not wish his blood on my hands unless there is no other way."

"As you wish," she said, after a few moments of silent consideration. "But he must never have the opportunity to harm another person again," she added fiercely.

"I trust that you will find a way to honor our agreement, and address your own concerns as well," Albus answered her.

"Tomorrow would be a good time to make our move," Maria said. "At noon there is a rally, and our people can be in the audience, poised to strike when he fails to show up."

"This rally seems like an opportune moment for me as well," Albus suggested. "A public defeat would surely have a greater impact on his followers than a mere failure to appear."

"A bold move. Indeed, in such an arena he could not refuse a duel!" she agreed. "Very well. I have here detailed drawings of the building."

She tapped the delicate coffee table before the couch with her wand, and a meticulous diagram of a large auditorium appeared upon it. Albus bent forward attentively, allowing her to speak without interruption as she outlined her plan. There would be time to improve upon it once he had grasped all of the details.