Chapter Text
The cold winter wind nipped at Harry’s nose, his glasses fogging up with every hot breath he let out into his scarf. He thought London winters were bad, but here he was, shivering in the cold Austrian Alps.
The same man that Harry first met, Achilles Bronson, sat across from him in the small carriage Grindelwald had sent. His leg was lazily placed over the other, and he was looking at Harry with the sly grin he always wore.
“Had a fun time at school, yeah?” He asked, his eyes dancing with joy as he watched Harry puff out a breath and tuck himself deeper into his winter coat.
“As fun as being Grindelwald’s son can be.” He muttered, choosing to look out the window when Achilles barked out a loud laugh.
“Don’t let the boss ‘ere that. He’ll bust your chops for chat like that.” He leaned over, ruffling Harry’s hair, despite the boy’s noise of protest.
With a scowl, Harry slapped the hand away. He shuffled back into the cushioned seat behind him, watching the snowy mountain tops that they passed.
“Why didn’t we go back to America?” He asked, eyes trailing the snow falling over the trees.
Achilles raised an eyebrow and shrugged. “Can’t dope out the big boss, but he did something big in ‘Merica and now we can’t stay there without getting caught and put into the slammer.”
Harry nodded. Even though he didn’t know a lick of that sentence, he understood enough to know that Grindelwald wasn’t welcome in America anymore.
“This new place he built for us though. Makes us more secure.”
/*
“Hadrian. You’re late.”
“Vinda.” Harry responded, his voice coming out more stiff than he hoped. “A pleasure, as always.”
The French woman’s eyes darkened as they narrowed on Harry’s form. Her eyes flickered from Achilles dragging in the luggage from the carriage, to Harry’s stance as he held his chin up.
If it were summer still, he would be cowering in fear that she would strike back. However, with how tired and cold he was, he could care less what she did to him.
He was not allowed to board the train this morning, as per the ministry’s rules, and had to wait for his aurors to show up and escort him to the Austrian portkey.
Alissa Cane looked like she would rather be anywhere else, while Benedict was still tagging along like a dog that didn’t know what to do or where to go.
That trip had been nothing short of awkward, Benedict trying to hold a conversation with Harry, only to get a word or two in response, and Alissa probably pretending that Harry wasn't even there.
“Achilles shall bring your bags to your room.” Vinda said. She started walking down the main staircase, her eyes never leaving Harry’s face. “We have much to do and so little time.”
“Is my dear father not coming to see me?” Harry asked, sarcasm dripping from his tongue.
Vinda said nothing about that, but Harry could tell she was almost at her breaking point. Through gritted teeth, she gave him a tight smile. “Your father-" she spat that word out "- has some work to finish. He has left you to me.”
“Oh goodie.” Harry whispered under his breath, choosing to look around the foyer.
“Donc, we have to get you tailored. Our seamstress has been waiting for a while and that is not good for your image.” She turned and walked towards a hallway on the right. "On y va."
With a long sigh, Harry followed behind her, tuning out most of what she said after that. He passed by many picture frames, most holding expensive muggle art that Harry was mostly certain Grindelwald stole. He wouldn’t put it past Grindelwald to be all for stealing, if he was already all for murder.
The two quickly arrived at the two doors at the end of the hallway. Vinda wasted no time in pushing the doors open and stepping inside.
As Harry entered, he was immediately drawn to a figure sitting on a couch and sipping tea from a porcelain cup. She was wearing a long, black, velvet dress with a high collar, wrapping around her neck. A silver pendant with a shadow of a woman's head was sitting just below the collar. The way her white curls were wildly placed into a high bun, held by a long feathered quill, could rival the curls of Bellatrix herself.
“This is Moira Crimp.” Vinda explained, finally turning her attention to Harry.
Harry opened his mouth to greet the lady, but his words got caught in his throat when her silver eyes snapped to him. The pale colour, which seemingly blended into the whites of her eyes, shone even more with her dark skin.
She was gorgeous, but in a way that made you want to do whatever she might ask while simultaneously wanting to run and hide from her gaze.
“She is one of the best rising designers in the wizarding world.” Vinda continued, unphased about Harry’s incompetence.
“You flatter me, Mademoiselle Rosier.” Moira giggled, her voice sounding like sweet honey on a hot summer day.
“Er- Hello.” Harry greeted, finally able to find his words. He didn’t even notice the harsh glare Vinda sent in his direction.
Moira stood up, facing Harry’s direction, and giving a small curtsey. “Greetings, Heir Grindelwald.”
“You’ll be in good hands, Hadrian.” Vinda said, a cold hand landing on Harry’s shoulder, releasing him from whatever space he was just in. She squeezed a bit harder when he didn’t respond, and didn’t release her grip until he sent her a firm nod.
Moira wiggled her fingers at Vinda and smiled widely as the door shut behind Harry with a soft click.
“Your mother seems to care for you very much.” She exclaimed, gesturing to the small stand in front of three big mirrors.
Harry barely processed what the woman said until he got to the stand.
“She’s not my mother.” He blurted out. A small blush appeared on his cheeks when Moira looked shocked, a hand coming up to rest on her chest.
“Oh, uh. Sorry.” He said sheepishly. “I meant that she’s one of Grindelwald’s…comrades. He sent her because he’s finishing stuff up.”
She blinked a couple times before her smile came back on her face. “I see. I’ve been curious about his heir ever since the news came out.” She stepped around the stand, bending down to pick up some measuring tape and a piece of chalk.
“The…news?” He repeated.
She gestured to lift his arms up, which he followed.
“Why of course!” She ran the tape measure against his right arm, the chalk coming up to mark a tick on the line. “Grindelwald had a child that he kept on the downlow, and didn’t say anything about it until now, at your introduction ceremony.”
“My- my what ?” Harry asked, stepping back slightly and almost falling off the stand. He carefully regained his balance, but his shock was still evident on his face.
“Oh dear.” Moira whispered, her hand coming up to block her mouth, which had formed a small ‘o’ shape. “Did they not tell you?”
“I- no!?” Harry’s eyebrows furrowed as his mind raced a million miles an hour. “This is a Christmas ball. I don’t- We’re not-”
Moira cleared her throat and shook her head. “Then I apologize. I was simply assuming.”
Her words did nothing to assure Harry or calm down his nerves. The two fell into a mellow silence, the only noise being the shuffling of fabric and the sound of Moira’s nails running along the tape.
“You do have to have an introduction ceremony, you know.” She smiled softly at Harry. Probably to try not to have him panic anymore, though he was still panicking so it didn't really help. “Eventually, of course.”
“Why would I need that?”
She moved to wrap the tape around his hips. “You’re an heir now, and a pretty famous one at that.” Marking down the number on a floating piece of paper, she moved to his legs. “You believe that just anyone can hire me? People want to know who their future looks like, so they have me make them look presentable for situations like this.”
“I guess…” Harry looked at himself in the mirror. “But a whole introduction ball for just this?”
Moira shrugged, writing down another number. She stretched the tap once more on his other leg.
“Well it can’t be helped. As a Grindelwald heir, it’s your fate.”
A shiver ran up Harry’s spine.
“What did you say?” He asked. The words felt dry on his tongue.
“Hm?” Moira’s eyebrows were now furrowed as she finished writing down her last number. “It can’t be helped?”
“Uh, no, no. After that.”
“It’s your fate?” She asked.
At Harry’s creased forehead, worried expression, and mouth set in a line, a laugh bubbled past her lips. “I simply meant that it’s already written in the stars that you will be introduced to society as Grindelwald’s only son, and successor.”
Harry was parroting almost every sentence it seemed. “Already written?”
Moira gave another honey-infused smile. “Before an heir is born, while they’re still in their mother’s womb, their destiny is sewn into their very being. My people believe that we choose our destiny when we come into this world, and even though we have free will over our choices, every path leads to the same destiny.”
Harry allowed her to move him around, draping different fabric of all colours over his arms. He listened to her speak with such grace and knowledge.
“For heirs, an introduction ceremony is part of that destiny, amongst other things, so a party to celebrate this transition is very common. It demonstrates the heirs’ ability to showcase their strengths, their power, while also giving the guests a picture on how the heir was raised, how they act now, and how they will act in the future.”
Moira reached behind her and plucked a couple pins from a blue plush cushion. She turned back around and pinned a dark blue, satin piece of fabric to his left arm, before pinning a burgundy piece of fabric to his right.
“Grindelwald is a leader that people look up to. As such, people want to see if you are the same. You will get a part too, if not this ball. It’s practically what was woven into your soul.”
Harry watched as she stepped back, hands on her hips, as she looked between the two pieces pinned to his arms. She seemed to consider one, before shaking her head and looking at the other.
He held his breath as she came up with a needle, already threaded, and proceeded to bunch up a part of the blue fabric and sew it together.
“I like this one.” Harry piped up, his eyes trained on the blue.
Moira hummed. “It’s nice isn’t it?” Harry nodded. “This is one of my favorite materials to work with. It’s delicate-” she tugged at the thread “-and will crumble with a single mistake. But, if handled properly, it won’t be destroyed.”
She let out a huff as she pushed herself up and stepped back yet again.
“You’re good at it.” Harry said, eyeing the stitches on the now pleated fabric.
Moira gazed up at him, a twinkle in her eyes.
“You think so?” She asked with a soft laugh. “I am an excellent weaver afterall.”
/*
You never really know how much you miss someone until you see them again.
As soon as Harry was free to go, he practically rushed to his room to get settled, and get changed for dinner.
He was exhausted, and hoped he could at least take a little nap before he ate, but when he opened the door, Queenie had looked up in his direction.
That single look, the familiarity of her aura, and the soft crinkle in her eyes as she greeted him with arms open wide, had him rushing to her side.
If he let a few tears slip from his eyes, and if Queenie hugged him a little tighter, that was nobody’s business but their own.
“I missed you sweetie pie.” She whispered into the nest on his head. Her lips pressed a gentle kiss to the top of his head before pulling him in again. “I hope you’ve been well.”
Harry laughed into her shoulder as he nuzzled in closer. The warmth comforted him, made him feel safe, made him forget where he was and even who he was for a moment.
“As well as I could be.” He mumbled, letting the closeness muffle his words.
He felt the shake in her shoulders from the laugh she gave, before she pulled away. Her hands cupped his cheek, brushing under his eyes in a fondness he’d never thought he would see again.
Suddenly, Queenie jumped back, running to sit on the bed and patting the place beside her. “You must tell me everything that happened!”
If they talked for the next three hours, no one would know. If Harry forgot he wanted to sleep, that was between him and his mind. If he unconsciously became more reliant on Queenie, well…
“And then, after Vinda left, Moira got started on my outfit.” He raised a hand to rub at his forehead. “...Is it true that I will have an introduction ball?”
Queenie tsked, patting Harry’s knee. “You’re supposed to, but I don’t think it’s this ball. Christmas is an important event in the wizarding world, and I highly doubt Grindelwald would try to overshadow that.”
Harry nodded, internally relieved about that fact. “Well, that’s good.”
Queenie nodded, squeezing his knee before taking her hand back. She paused and looked at Harry, a small frown on her soft features.
“Who is Moira, honey?” She asked, tilting her head.
“The seamstress Grindelwald brought in. Uh- Moira Crimp, they said.” He looked down at his fingers that were picking at his nails. “Apparently she’s been getting really popular across the world.”
Queenie looked at Harry’s hands, reaching out to take one into her own. “Moira Crimp?” She repeated. “There’s no seamstress named Moira in the wizarding world, sweetheart.”
Another shiver ran up Harry’s spine.
“Grindelwald always has his tailoring and robe making done by Faustina Crimp. Very nice girl, but she’s an only child.” Harry looked up at her, hands forgotten in hers. “They only had one daughter.”
Harry swallowed. “Oh.”
Well, he was tired after all.
“Maybe I misheard.”