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Harry, Ron, Hermione, and I dash through the trees.

Hermione, swift as the wind, flickers through the trees as Scabior pursues her.

Harry and I slash through the river, looking up, we see a Snatcher leap across the divide from one tree to another.

Ron pounds through thick brush, over a fallen tree.

The forest grows more dense, the shadows thicken. Spells splinter through the trees, ropes of light lace the night.

Hermione stumbles, regains her footing, finds herself in a clearing. Two figures pelt toward her, Harry and I.

We freeze briefly, then the clearing explodes with light as spells ricochet. We hit the ground, hearing the Snatchers closing in. I look to Hermione, nodding my head. She nods back, understanding what I'm telling her to do.

The tip of her wand glows and her face blooms in the darkness, looking mildly demonic. She reaches out, strips Harry's glares from his face, then points her wand at me and him. A burst of white light strikes both of us in the eyes.

As her wand goes dark... we are flying toward a fortress.

Gliding around the high walls, up to the topmost window of the highest tower. Harry and I pass through the window, little more than a slit, and finds a skeletal figure lying beneath a ragged blanket. The figure stirs, looks up, and grins with broken teeth. It is the young man, the thief, grown old. Grindelwald.

"Ah, Tom, I thought you would come one day. But surely you must know I no longer have what you seek..."

A shadow, Voldemort's, falls across Grindelwald. "If not you, then who?"

"You're so innocent, Tom. Like a schoolboy. There's so much you don't understand..."

"Tell me, Grindelwald. Tell me where to find it! Tell me who possesses it! The name, Grindelwald! The name!"

"Can't you guess, Tom? It lies with him, of course. Buried within the earth. It is he who possesses it, even in death. Your old friend and mine... Dumbledore."

Harry and I blink and in a swollen blur, peering at Hermione.

"They exist. The Hallows." I whisper frantically.

Hermione looks at me expectantly. Harry and I nod, our faces shrouded in shadows, barely visible.

"But he only wants the one, the last one. That's what he's been looking for." Harry tells her.

"What're you both saying?" She asks.

"He knows where it is, You-Know-Who." I whisper. "He'll have it by the end of the night. He's found the Elder Wand."

As Hermione stares in stunned disbelief, figures emerge from the trees. Ron is shoved to the ground next to us. Scabior strips Harry, Hermione, and I of our wands.

"Don't touch her!" Ron tells as he man handles Hermione. A fist hits Ron hard. It's Greyback.

"Stop it!" Hermione shouts.

"Your boyfriend'll get worse than that if he doesn't behave, lovely." Scabior paints her face with light then casts it on Harry and I. We peer up, our eyes swollen to slits, our faces horribly misshapen. "What happened to you, uglies?"

I scoff and roll my eyes, to the best of my ability. Harry's hand finds his face, feels the lumps.

"What's your names?" He asks us.

"Dudely. Vernon Dudley." Harry says, then Scabior looks to me.

"Daphne Greengrass." I avoid his gaze.

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