The message from the Auror made Scrimgeour's face twist in frustration.
One more terrible blow atop a pile of bad news.
He could already foresee tomorrow morning: owls swarming his office.
Until now, Voldemort had only been active within Britain—his attack on Nurmengard could still be excused as an ego-driven move to prove himself the greatest Dark wizard. But tonight, Nurmengard wasn't the only target.
Voldemort had finally extended his hand beyond the British Isles.
"Harry?" Scrimgeour turned to the much younger wizard beside him, now even more worried.
After word of this gets out, who would still believe Voldemort hadn't returned?
"I promise you, this time we'll end him," Harry said quietly.
Scrimgeour took a deep breath and nodded heavily. "Understood, Harry."
"If there's any news, make sure to inform me." Harry gave him a wave, then Disapparated.
Scrimgeour tugged at his hair.
Since taking the Minister's post, not even the Potter family's hair-growth potion could save his thinning hairline.
Now he finally understood why Harry—and Dumbledore—never wanted to be involved in Ministry politics.
Still…
This wasn't entirely bad news.
When Kingsley returned with the on-site reports, Scrimgeour turned to him with a command: "Summon the heads of the other Ministry departments."
"We need them?" Kingsley asked, confused.
Scrimgeour nodded. "Absolutely. I think this is the perfect time to deal with Thicknesse and the rest. None of them will object now."
Thicknesse had been difficult to deal with, mostly because the department heads still believed "You-Know-Who is dead." They'd been trying to shield the guilty, unsure if they themselves might be targeted later.
But now—with proof Voldemort lived again—there'd be no more excuses.
The Minister got to work. Tonight's duties were far from over.
Back at Hogwarts, all was calm.
Dumbledore didn't wake until late the next morning.
His head throbbed, as if Harry had punched it a few times.
A bottle of potion floated to him.
"Thanks, Poppy," Dumbledore said weakly, downing it without hesitation.
It tasted bitter, burning his tongue.
But the splitting pain in his head quickly eased.
"Drunkenness is a dreadful thing," Dumbledore muttered, turning his gaze to the bed beside him where Grindelwald lay.
Harry, who had also spent the night in the hospital wing, spoke up: "He's fine. Just drank some Draught of Living Death and fell asleep."
Madam Pomfrey added, "He'll be here for another month at least."
"That curse was no joke."
Dumbledore nodded.
"And I'm sorry, but I have some bad news to share now that you're awake," Harry said expressionlessly.
Dumbledore looked regretful.
Harry continued: "Last night, Voldemort attacked three wandmakers. He's still chasing the Elder Wand."
Not the worst news.
Dumbledore looked at his bedside. His wand was still there.
"Of course, he won't find it," Harry added with a shrug. "But he's making too much trouble. We need to end this soon."
Dumbledore asked, "Do you have a plan?"
"Your office?" Harry glanced toward the curtain. Students were starting to trickle into the infirmary.
Some had accidents in class.
Others, acting kind, fell into the Black Lake trying to break ice for the merfolk—or got smacked by falling ice chunks.
Another busy day for Madam Pomfrey.
Dumbledore nodded.
An hour later, in the Headmaster's office.
Dumbledore, Harry, and Snape were there.
Ciri, Yennefer, Geralt, and even Avallac'h had arrived as well.
"Harry, what's your plan?" Dumbledore asked, pouring a steaming cup of honeywater.
Harry asked, "Albus, you've fought Voldemort. How strong is he?"
Dumbledore was silent for a while, then spoke slowly: "He's still not fully attuned to his new body, and he lacks a wand. Even so, I couldn't defeat him."
"But if we work together, we probably can."
Harry nodded, then turned to Avallac'h: "Any way to delay the rest of the Wild Hunt?"
Avallac'h looked surprised. "You want to launch a counterattack on Tir na Lia?"
Tir na Lia—the capital of the Aen Elle elves.
Harry confirmed it.
"I heard Ciri mention it last night," Avallac'h said quietly. "Eredin is no longer Eredin, but this wizard named Voldemort?"
Harry nodded. "Grindelwald said Voldemort appeared before him as an elf."
Avallac'h thought for a moment. "Eredin had three generals."
"You've already eliminated Imlerith and Caranthir, who were fiercely loyal. That leaves Ge'els."
"Eredin is a powerful ruler—but he's a poor king. He craves power but lacks the patience to govern."
"So he relies on someone shrewd and capable. That's Ge'els."
"He manages Tir na Lia and oversees the Red Riders' logistics."
"If he learns that Eredin is no longer Eredin…"
Harry met his gaze directly. "Can you be sure?"
"Absolutely," Avallac'h nodded.
He didn't use Legilimency.
But Harry could feel the sincerity in his emotions—no deceit.
"Excellent," Harry clapped his hands softly. "No need for a complex plan."
"Ciri takes us to the Aen Elle world."
"We find Ge'els—persuade him. If that fails, we restrain him and stall the Wild Hunt."
"Albus and I take care of Voldemort."
A simple, brutal plan.
Direct—but effective.
"No need for much preparation. We rest today. Tomorrow, we leave." Harry turned to look at Dumbledore as he spoke the final line.
Avallac'h added, "But convincing Ge'els won't be easy."
Snape said coldly, "A wizard has many ways to persuade someone."
Avallac'h fell silent.
The next day.
Everyone was ready, standing in Dumbledore's office.
"Gwyail," Avallac'h said calmly to Ciri. "Just like I taught you—find the gap and slip through it. Then open the door ahead of you."
"It'll be simple for you."
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Powerstones?
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